


time is taking its sweet time erasing you

by ivyrobinson



Category: Anastasia (1997), Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:28:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 29,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24397300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivyrobinson/pseuds/ivyrobinson
Summary: dust on every page ficlets. written and posted with piecesofgold's permission
Relationships: Dimitri | Dmitry/Anya | Anastasia Romanov (Anastasia 1997 & Broadway)
Comments: 34
Kudos: 40
Collections: sweet home alaska





	1. 2020: back in alaska

**Author's Note:**

  * For [piecesofgold](https://archiveofourown.org/users/piecesofgold/gifts).
  * Inspired by [dust on every page](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22933015) by [piecesofgold](https://archiveofourown.org/users/piecesofgold/pseuds/piecesofgold). 



The strange state of the world already has Anya’s nerves frayed, and emotions all over the place. It seems so far off, secluded in Fox River now. Tucked away in this private corner of the world but all it takes is turning on the news or checking in with the home office back in Paris and it all comes back. 

Still, she’s not expecting the rush of emotion that overwhelms her when she walks into Dmitry’s old room and sees Andy in the middle of the bed. Andy’s been great and sweet, but the transition into their family hasn’t been without its bumps and packing him onto a plane this morning to bring him across country hadn’t made things any easier. 

But now, seeing her hand chosen son laying in his father’s old bed has filled some part of her heart she didn’t realize had been empty. 

“Anya?” He asks sleepily, sitting up in bed. It’s only about six at night here, but ten in New York time. “Are you crying?” 

“Yeah,” she admits, wiping at her eyes. Then lies, “I’m just tired from the long flight.” 

“Being tired makes you cry?” He asks, as though he hasn’t given her and Dmitry several tear filled fits from being overtired in the past few months. 

“Yeah,” she says, and reaches over to ruffle his hair, and he ducks under her hand. “Tired, angry, sad. All of them can cause tears.” 

He is eyeing her dubiously, “Is it a girl thing?”

“No,” she laughs. “It’s a being human thing.” 

Andy doesn’t look convinced, and looks past her as Dmitry enters the room. She feels a wave of nostalgia now seeing Dmitry in this room. 

“Dmitry,” Andy greets him. They’re trying very hard to not force the mom and dad thing on him, and she’s trying to accept he might not ever get there. “Do you cry when you’re tired?” 

“Uh…” Dmitry’s gaze goes to her, as though he thinks it might be some sort of trick question. She moves her chin slightly in a nod. “Of course. Being overtired is upsetting.” 

Having heard it from a male, Andy accepts this now. 

She’ll have to work on that. 

“How is Lily?” She asks. She’d hardly seen her except for being picked up at he airport and the quick meal they had a few hours ago. 

Anya has spent the rest of the time trying to situate them and Andy. 

They didn’t even have a room ready for Andy yet, but it was probably best for him to spend a night or two with them as he adjusted to the strange new location. 

“Ecstatic that we are here,” Dmitry replies, climbing in the bed, and taking a seat next to Andy. “Not the circumstances surrounding it, but happy to spend time with us and Andy.” 

She’d come out for a week a month after he came to live with them and the adoption had been approved and then again in December to celebrate the holidays and his birthday but that was it so far. 

“Why does she want to spend time with me?” Andy asks. 

“Because there’s nothing Lily loves more than to have someone to spoil,” Dmitry explains, reaching over to shut off the main light. 

She’s glad that he’s on the same page to just fall asleep, even when it’s still early out. 

Andy surprises her by nestling up to her. She throws her arm around him and pulls him against her. He squirms. 

“Look, Dima,” she lowers her voice to a whisper because the room is dark now and lends itself to that level. “I’ve found someone who lets me be a big spoon.” 

Dmitry laughs, leaning over to give her a quick kiss on the lips before pressing a kiss against Andy’s cheek. “Give him a year, he’ll be taller than you.” 

Anya gasps in mock offense, “Good night, Dmitry.” 

“Night, Anyok. Andy,” he mumbles into the arm his head is resting against. 

His hand finds her hip to rest against, and he’s out almost instantly. She looks down at Andy’s blond head and sees he’s out as well. 

Ah, like father like son. 

Despite the world outside, this feels like a very good path for their family to be on.


	2. 2020: dmitry's birthday

It is going to break Dmitry’s heart when he discovers how repulsed his daughter is by salmon. At least by the smell of it. Anya thinks it’s a testament of her love to him she’s gagged her way through making smoked salmon pancakes. 

Andy had woken up in the middle of her making breakfast, and taken care of her first few failed attempts. 

“I didn’t think we had to wear masks inside the house,” Andy comments to her, as he eats a very malformed looking pancake. 

“It’s more of a smell thing than a health thing,” she tells him, as she turns on the coffee. She bites her lip, “Do you want to go wake your father?” 

But she hears Dmitry right after she asks him, and he pads down already dressed. 

“Wow,” Dmitry says, kissing her on the forehead in greeting and ruffling Andy’s hair before padding over to the coffee maker “This is quite a feast.” 

Anya pulls off her mask to set it aside. “It seemed appropriate.” 

“Oh yeah?” Dmitry’s wiping the sleep out of his eyes as he pours the coffee. “Should you be doing this when you’re nine months pregnant?” 

Well, it had been a struggle and Lily had to get out all the ingredients and supplies for her before she could start but a birthday in quarantine was a bummer so she thought she should do some special things. 

Especially after all the effort he and Andy had gone through back in June for hers. 

“It’s fine,” she reaches over to tug on his hand, absently twirling his wedding ring on his finger. “I wanted to do something for you.” 

“Why?” He seems genuinely confused, “What’s the special occasion?”

Anya lets out a laugh because he has to be joking. 

Andy interrupts before she can follow up on that. 

“Dmitry!” He pulls out a painting he’d spent yesterday afternoon doing. “I made this for you.” 

Dmitry takes it from him, “This is me and Marmie.” Andy nods his head in confirmation. Dmitry turns it around so Anya can see it. “We can hang it on our wall here until we get back to New York.” 

“I’ve already ordered a frame,” Anya tells him, as he sets it aside on the counter. 

At the same time Andy is asking, “When are we going back home?” 

“Not until after your sister is born,” Dmitry answers, plating his pancakes. 

“You can’t have babies in New York?” Andy asks, and she doesn’t blame him for his impatience. It was supposed to be a visit and now it’s been around nine months. 

“We definitely can’t have a baby in a Uhaul,” Dmitry responds, “Which can happen at any moment.” 

“How are babies born?” Andy asks, which she supposes is a slightly better question than asking how they’re made. 

“Uh…” Dmitry’s fork pauses mid journey to his mouth. “That’s not a breakfast conversation.” 

“It must be gross,” Andy decides, and looks to Anya for confirmation. 

She shrugs, because she’s very much been trying not to focus on the whole giving birth aspect of being pregnant. 

They’ve gotten sidetracked from the fact today is Dmitry’s birthday. 

“Dima-“

He’s looking at his watch, “Shit, I’ve got a class, is it okay if I take breakfast to go?” 

Anya’s really confused by his lack of acknowledgement of his birthday. 

“Uh sure,” Anya agrees, “You owe me a kiss though.”

Dmitry stops to kiss her on the lips once. And then twice. “There, with interest.” 

Andy’s lip curls as Dmitry plants a kiss on his cheek, “You guys are weird.” 

“You’re stuck with us,” Anya reminds him. She goes to squat down beside him and then remembers her body doesn’t currently work that way. Once Dmitry is gone she says to him, “I don’t think your father realizes his birthday.” 

Andy nods in agreement, “We probably should’ve said Happy Birthday.” 

Ah yes, the wisdom of children. 

-

Anya doesn’t see Dmitry again until the afternoon. It’s mostly her fault because long midday naps are now a part of her regular schedule. If she could just sleep until after the baby is born, it’s really how she wants to spend the last month or so of this pregnancy. 

Lily took Andy outside, to go for a walk for a socially distanced visit with Lena and Dunya and Polly. At five and four, she’s not certain if they really grasp the current rules of the world, but fortunately they more or less follow the rules the adults give them. 

Dmitry comes in from the backyard, brushing off sawdust before he enters the inside fully. She associates the smell of lemongrass and sawdust with him now and forever. 

“Hey,” she greets him, maneuvering herself to sit on the sofa. 

He assists, moving to sit behind her, resting his chin on her shoulder. “You look tired.” 

“I just slept four hours in the middle of the day,” she responds as his hands rest on her stomach. “It was exhausting.” 

“Where’s Andy?” 

“With Lily,” Anya answers, wincing as their daughter pushes painfully against several vital organs at once. “Your daughter has gotten really violent during this last trimester.” 

“That’s weird,” Dmitry says, “If I recall correctly, it’s her mother that’s always been the violent one.” 

“Still can be,” she warns and she can feel him laugh behind her. “You know what I was thinking about?” 

“Hmm?” 

“How strange it’s going to be when her birthday is most likely in November,” Anya comments, and gives a warning look to her stomach bump. She’s barely able to cope with the idea of having a baby, and coming early is not something she’s at all prepared for. “And then Andy’s will be right after in December, along with Christmas and Hanukkah.” 

Maybe talking about birthdays will get him to remember it’s his own. 

“And then nothing until your birthday in June,” he finishes, continuing to be oblivious. 

“Yeah,” she shifts slightly. “Do you think you could go to the store when Lily and Andy come back?” 

“Of course,” Dmitry says, and she’s glad because it’s hard to come up with ways to get someone out of the house when it was still kind of forbidden to leave it. “What do you need?” 

“Ice cream,” she says, because she doesn’t actually need anything and it’s the first thing that comes to mind. And now she actually does kind of want ice cream. “Chocolate, and mint and maybe some strawberry too. And I think Andy likes peanut butter ice cream.” 

“So every flavor in the store?” Dmitry teases.

Anya tilts her head back to blink at him innocently, “If you don’t mind.” 

He drops a kiss on her, upside down style. 

Thank god Lily is who she is because Anya has to put together something in the span of a shopping trip. 

-

“Are you sure Mitya doesn’t know that it’s his birthday,” Lily asks her, “And isn’t just trying to be low key about it?”

“I’ve spent many low key birthdays with him,” Anya points out. “This isn’t that.” 

“Does Dmitry not like his birthday?” Andy asks. He’s helping decorate but there’s far more streamers on him than there are on the chair. It doesn’t help that Marmie is following him around, batting at the streamers as soon as he puts them up, and splitting them only. 

“I don’t think it’s a big deal to him,” Anya corrects. “He just doesn’t think of himself first a lot.”

This is probably not the best way to explain it to a five year old. 

“He doesn’t like to celebrate himself,” is what Lily says, more accurately. 

“I won’t forget my birthday,” Andy promises and Anya smiles. 

“We wouldn’t let you,” Anya promises. 

“We’re saying Happy Birthday when he comes back?” Her son questions. 

“First thing,” she says. “Next year you can be in charge of your father’s birthday celebration.” 

“In New York?” Andy clarifies. 

Jesus, she hopes so. But she says to him, “Yes.” 

She hears the car door, and then the door opens. 

Andy launches himself at his father, “Happy Birthday!” 

Dmitry struggles with catching a small child and juggling a grocery bag full of ice cream. Lily reaches over and takes the bag from him. 

“Thank you, malyshonuk,” Dmitry says to Andy, lifting him up. “But my birthday isn’t until….oh.”

“Today,” Andy whispers to him, helpfully. 

“That explains the salmon pancakes this morning,” he says, nodding. “And the painting.” 

Anya pinches her index finger and thumb together. “Just a little bit.” 

“And here I just thought you guys were being really nice this morning,” Dmitry says, reaching over to tug on the end of Anya’s ponytail. 

“We’ve been trying to celebrate with you all day,” she tells him. Give or take a break or two for a nap. 

“I forgot,” he says lamely. “At least we have some ice cream to eat to celebrate.” 

“I wish we could do something more but,” Anya gestures vaguely to the outside and then specifically to the state of her body. 

“Wouldn’t want to celebrate any other way or with anyone else,” he promises. Which is more or less the same thing he’s told her since his eleventh birthday. 

Give or take….she doesn’t want to think about that either. 

“You have to blow out candles first,” Andy instructs him. 

Lily threw together a cake from a mix that was buried in the cupboard. It should be okay for candles at the very least. 

“Clearly I needed a birthday expert to help me with these matters,” Dmitry says to Andy. “I’ve been hopeless all day.” 

Andy nods solemnly in response. 

It’s not a perfect way to celebrate but it’s theirs.


	3. 2021: vasectomy surgery

There had been a plan, but like most plans it had fallen to the wayside. Andy’s soccer game was canceled due to the current storm outside, so he was home. Anya had some sort of work emergency so Cassie was currently sitting on his chest, and she kept reaching out to balance herself by pressing her hands on his eyes and nose. 

Dmitry’s due for another pain pill but he can’t get up to get it and doesn’t want to until Anya is back out here with Cassie. 

“Dad!” Andy skids to a stop, slightly jolting the sofa that Dmitry is resting on. “Can I go outside?” 

“No,” Dmitry responds, bringing his hands up to make sure Cassie stays on him. “It’s still storming outside.” 

“No, it’s not,” Andy tells him, and Dmitry tips his head to try to see out the window but all he can see from this angle is curtain. 

“Still no,” he tells him, “Your mom is busy and I’m recovering.” 

It feels like too light of a word for the fact he had a bag of ice against his crotch but it’s what he’ll go with for now. 

“I’m bored,” Andy complains to him. 

“I thought you said if we came back to New York you’d never be bored again,” he points out and his son just looks at him blankly. “I think there’s a puzzle somewhere.”

Andy seems to consider it before deciding, “No, that’s boring.” So glad that word has worked its way through his son’s vocabulary this year. 

“Your mom should be done soon,” Dmitry offers as Cassie presses drool covered hands against his mouth. “Thanks, Cass.” 

He lets out a grunt as Andy knees him in the stomach trying to crawl over him. 

Death by fatherhood is not the fate he had seen coming for him. 

“Watch your sister,” Dmitry warns him, making sure he has a good grip on her, pulling her up a little more on his chest. 

Andy wriggles his way between the back of the sofa and Dmitry’s side. 

Dmitry releases one hand off of Cassie to hook it around Andy to get him to still. 

He looks up at his sister, as though he still hasn’t decided about her after seven months. 

“She looks like mom,” he decides. 

Honestly Dmitry was finding it depending on the day, or even the hour, to figure who Cassie looked more like. Babies’ looks were strangely elastic like that. The tuft of strawberry hued Jaír did tip in Anya’s favor however. 

“She’ll be lucky if she does,” Dmitry says as he gets a tiny chubby finger up his nostril. 

There’s a weight suddenly on his stomach. Oh good Marmie has joined in. This exactly what the doctor had in mind when she instructed to rest and take it easy. 

A pile of children- human and feline. 

“People think I look like Mom,” Andy says, and lowers his voice to a whisper. “They don’t know.” 

Dmitry pats Andy’s hair, somewhat awkward due to the angle and his restrictions. “The universe gave you the Romanov blue eyes so we would know you were ours when we found you.” 

Andy lifts his head up, “Our last name is Sudayev.”

“Yes,” Dmitry agrees, and he wants to chuckle but even the thought of laughing at all pulls at his incision. “But your mother’s was Romanov before she married me.”

“Oh,” Andy seems surprised that last names would change. Dmitry supposed that would make sense if you’d never been told otherwise. 

Marmie head butts the back of Cassie affectionately. Dmitry tightens his now one handed grip on her. 

“Marmie, please don’t.” 

Andy reaches over to pet the cat, and Marmie turns her attention over to him. 

“I’m so sorry that took so long,” Anya is apologizing before she even gets in the room. When she does, she comes to a stop. “Oh, you’re acquired quite a collection.” 

She then moves and easily scoops Cassie up and away from him. Their daughter lets out a startled gasp, but gets distracted by Anya’s hair as she’s pressed against her shoulder. 

“What else can I unload from you?” She asks, bending down to place a kiss on his lips. 

Now that his chest is free Marmie is scooching up to rest under Dmitry’s throat. 

“These two are fine,” he decides. “Just medication please.” 

“Okay,” Anya says, pausing to ruffle Andy’s hair before she goes out to the kitchen. 

“What are you going to do now?” Andy asks him. 

“Honestly, bud,” he responds. “I’m going to take a nap.” 

Dmitry braces himself for the impact of Andy climbing back over him, but instead he just rests against his shoulder. 

“Me too.” 

Anya comes back with a pill and a glass of water, he has to lift his head up slightly to be able to swallow, which causes Marmie to leave in a huff. 

“Andy and I are going to take a nap,” Dmitry tells her as she takes the water back from him. Cassie reaches for the glass and Anya pulls it out of her grasping zone. 

Anya smiles, reaching over to stroke Andy’s cheek. He easily goes from sixty to zero when it comes to sleeping when he wants. But only when he wants. 

“Sleep tight my boys,” Anya tells them. “Cassie and I are going to...do something in another room so you can sleep.” 

“Love you,” he tells her. 

“Love you both,” she returns, before disappearing into Cassie’s room. 

Dmitry feels Marmie jump on top of the arm of the sofa just above his head and settle down right before he falls asleep himself.


	4. pre

Dmitry and Anya go an entire week without seeing each other after the great hives incident. ‘You can’t see me,’ she whines to him on the phone one night. ‘I’m all blotchy and gross.’ Dmitry snorts, ‘You act like I haven’t seen you at your worst before.’ She gasps offendedly and hangs up immediately, only to call back two hours later. ‘Don’t you miss me?’ She asks. ‘I’m trying to study,’ he tells her. ‘You two make me want to vomit,’ says Marfa, trying to study three feet away from him on his bedroom floor. 

So it’s probably to everyone’s relief when Anya declares herself fit for public view again. She shows up at Vlad and Lily’s holding a box of Benadryl. 

“I am ready to be near you again,” she declares. 

“I changed soaps,” he tells her, pulling her into a hug. 

“Wait I had more,” Anya protests, stepping away. “I’ve heard of toxic men but I’ve never been allergic to one before!” 

Dmitry sighs, and reaches over, looping his hand around her wrist and tugging her to the sofa in the living room. “Do you want to make jokes or do you want to watch a movie?” 

“I want to do both,” Anya says as she reaches over to pull the bowl of muddy buddies mix. “You never let me do anything fun.” 

“I let you do anything you want,” Dmitry tells her, and he should be embarrassed because it’s true. 

“Not true,” she counters. “Whenever I do something you think is dangerous you stop me.” 

“You’re reckless and I don’t want you to die,” Dmitry says, selecting a movie for them to watch. “Why do you keep acting like this is a bad thing.” 

Anya pulls on his arm, pushing the sleeve of his plaid shirt and sniffing, “What is this?”

“An arm, you weirdo,” Dmitry tells her, pulling free of her grip and stretching his arm behind her on the sofa. 

She lets out a huff at that answer and leans against him, her cheek resting against his shoulder. He reaches over grabbing a handful of the mix to eat. 

Anya’s surprisingly quiet as the movie unfolds. He’d half expected it to be background noise, given the time they spent away from each other. He supposes it doesn’t count, when they also spent every night on the phone together. 

Then her nose nuzzles against him and his heart stutters and he can’t quite figure out why. 

“Sorry,” she says, and she’s somehow gotten closer to him throughout the movie, though she was already leaning against him to begin with. “It’s just a really good scent.” 

“Honestly my aim was just to not kill you this time,” Dmitry tells her. 

Anya pulls the hand of his arm stretched out across the sofa around her. It rests just below her ribcage. “Are you not going to tell me what it is?” 

He turns his head, and he’s met with the smell of strawberries to match the hue of her hair. “Nope.” 

It didn’t really matter, but if it was something Anya desperately wanted to know it was more fun to withhold that information from her. 

“I’m going to smell every bar of soap until I figure it out,” she declares. 

More likely, she’d get bored part of the way through and give up and forget she was ever interested. 

Not much held Anya’s interest for too long. 

“Detective Romanov,” he teases. “Soap detective.”

“My parents will be so proud,” Anya sighs. “They’ve feared an aimless future for me.” 

“And what do you want, Anyok?” 

She tilts her head up, her forehead touching his chin now, and he hopes she doesn’t ask the same question of him, “I’m told to not want so much.” 

“Sounds like an Olgaism,” he says. 

“Oh, it’s everyone older than me,” Anya waves it off, going to move away from him, but he keeps her locked under his arm. “You want a crack at it?” 

“I gave you an allergic reaction,” Dmitry tells her, “I think I owe you some.” 

She places a kiss underneath his chin and he lets her go. “I’m going to hold you to that.” 

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” he tells her. 

Anya throws her arms around him in a hug and sometimes it feels like their friendship has developed into a game of tag. Different touches to make the other it. 

“Are you just doing this to smell my soap?” he asks and she nods against the crook of his neck. 

She lifts her head back up and their faces feel a breath apart. Then the front door slams, and they jump apart, not that there is anything to jump away from. 

Vlad enters the room, pausing to acknowledge the two teenagers, “Do you need me to call 911 or are you okay for the night?” 

Anya falls back onto the couch laughing lightly, and Dmitry reaches behind him to toss one of Lily’s (many) decorative pillows at him. 

Vlad continues on out of the room, and Dmitry and Anya spend the rest of the movie several inches apart.


	5. 2020: the attic

A month into quarantine in Alaska and Anya finds herself falling into old habits and behaviors. It’s hard not to feel seventeen again, tucked into the Popov attic, Dmitry tucked by her side and nowhere to go and hours of nothing to do but waste them. And Dmitry would leave intermittently for classes. 

Leaving the attic was a bit more of a reality with Andy around, but here in the attic…

Anya shoves at his shoulder, and he grunts in response before turning his head to look at her. She pokes him in the shoulder, “You look cute.” 

He throws an arm over her waist, “Thanks.” 

“Remember all those dresses of mine you used to ruin when we were younger?” She asks him, threading her fingers with his and bringing his hand under her shirt. 

He nuzzles nose against her neck, “You ruined your own dresses, you’d lay in the grass and ask me to fuck you.” 

Well...that was probably a mild way to put the brash, unapologetic way she had been as a teenager. 

Sometimes that girl had felt as much of a ghost as the rest of her family. 

“Never heard you complainin,” she throws back at him, dragging his hand downwards. 

“Never would,” Dmitry maneuvers her hand upwards, as she rolls onto her back, pinning it above her head. She presses her tongue against her lower lip. “You askin for something, Anyok?” 

She nods her head before lifting it up to kiss him. They’d had sex before they fell asleep, so she’s not certain why she’s waking up in the middle of the night feeling like her body is made of live wires. 

He releases her hand and reaches down to tug the shirt off of her. 

“Did you think you’d be here like fifteen years later with me when we were teenagers?” She asks. 

“In this particular attic? I’d rather hoped not,” Dmitry hands skim down the edge of her body. “Naked with you? Absolutely.” 

“I love you,” she tells him as she pushes his head down, impatiently. “And your stupid sincerity.” 

He laughs against her breast, “I love you and your beautiful compliments.”

She’s much better at expressing herself emotionally now than she had been but old habits are slipped into way too easily. 

“You know,” she begins but then his tongue is inside her and she decides there will be another time and place to express her sincerity. Instead she just lifts her hips up as an offering. “Fuck, Dima.” 

There’s a never ending ache, that just keeps demanding more and more and more. She feels satisfied but unsated. 

He brings his mouth back up to her, and she opens hers, eager for the taste of herself on his tongue. 

Anya hooks her legs behind his back as he positions himself and thrusts in her. She reaches behind her to grasp at the headboard. 

“Love you,” she pants, because it always bears repeating. His mouth is on her collarbone, but she can feel his response radiate off of him. 

Dmitry reaches between them, his thumb brushing up against her, causing her to fall apart, she holds on, guiding him to follow. 

Her hands drop, and he roles them over so she’s nestled at his side. 

“You good?” He teases, his hand brushing aside her hair stuck to her face. 

She pressed her cheek against his chest, her hand resting against his heartbeat. “For now.” 

Anya can feel his laugh vibrate through her and she closes her eyes, wanting to fall asleep against that sensation.


	6. pre

There was a reason why Anya had first come to Dmitry’s but she’s forgotten what it was for after waiting several hours for him. And she must’ve fallen asleep because the sky is dark and he’s patting her on the hip. 

“You know at hotels they leave mints on the pillow,” he tells her, turning on the lamp next to her bedside. “They don’t leave entire teenage girls in beds.” 

“Funny,” she says groggily, rubbing her eyes against the light. “I was here all night.” 

“What for?” He asks, slipping off his shoes and jacket. “Scooch over.” 

Anya sits up and slides over a spot as he sits down on the bed and lays down. “Don’t remember.” She lays back down, resting her head on his chest “Where you been?”

“Had a date,” he answers, his arm wrapping around her shoulder. 

Her heart gives an odd beat, and she turns her head to sniff his shirt. Instead of the normal, comforting lemongrass scent, it’s overpowered by the scent of rose. “She smells like she’s bad in bed.” 

Dmitry gives a snort, “Wouldn’t know.” 

She never thinks too much about Dmitry’s love life, never asks too much of it. 

So it’s with force she asks, “It didn’t go well?” 

“Went fine,” he says, his hands thread through her hair. “Spending the night?”

Anya’s nose tickles from the scent on his shirt, and it’s giving her a headache. 

“I should go home,” she says, sitting up. He wraps his arms around her and pulls her back down. “Mitya!” 

“You’ve never said those words to me before,” Dmitry tells her, kissing her on the cheek. “I should go home? Who are you.” 

“I go home!” She protests, as he tickles her sides. “I go home all the time.” 

She manages to free her hands to pinch his neck. 

“Foul,” he tells her, and she uses it to flip him over and capture his hands with her own. “I let you do that.” 

Anya knows, but squeezes his hands in retaliation. “Just admit my superiority, Sudayev.”

“That wasn’t ever in question,” he tells her, and pulls his hands free. And presses his palm against her cheek and her heart gives another weird tug. 

“Okay,” she sighs, “I’m staying but change your shirt, I think I’m allergic to that girl’s perfume.” 

Dmitry reaches down and pulls his shirt off, “Better?” 

Anya’s tongue sticks to the roof of her mouth so she nods. She clears her throat, “Show off.” 

“Well,” he places his hands on her hips and moves her off of him. “If you want me to put on a different shirt, you’re going to have to move.” 

Oh, yeah. 

Dmitry sits up and pulls a fresh shirt out of his drawer, pulling it over his head and laying back down. “Better?” 

Anya tucks herself back against his side, “Eh, it’ll do.” 

He kisses her forehead, “Night, Anyok.” 

“Night,” she replies back to him, closing her eyes and trying to dim the sound of her own heart beating in her ears.


	7. 2020: stargazing

Anya’s due date passes as a relatively calm day. At least for her, Dmitry is skittish, looking ready to go the moment she moves. But she’d awaken that morning with peace knowing their daughter would not make an appearance that day. 

She’d hope to feel ready by the time November came, but her mind is a maze of scenarios of things going wrong. Of tests being wrong and new issues being found after birth. And the terrifying unknown of having to raise a child from birth. Andy comes with his own challenges, but he came to them as his own person and an ability to communicate. The length of distance between newborn and nearly five years old is vast. 

Andy takes his sister’s delayed entrance to the world as a betrayal. 

He’s bundled up on his father’s lap as they sit outside, a habit they’ve fallen back into since they’ve been in Alaska, the view of the stars much more clear here than they ever could be back in New York. 

“Why do they say the baby will come when it doesn’t?” Andy asks. 

Dmitry has one arm hooked around him, and the other stretched out behind Anya in her chair. She’s got a tea that’s grown cold beside her, several blankets wrapped around her, and a book mostly left unread on her lap. And a nonstop muscle spasm that first made itself known early in her third trimester. 

“It’s not an exact science, unfortunately,” Dmitry explains. 

Andy is still anxious, and Anya worries he’s feeding off her own anxiety. Possibly Dmitry’s too, but she’s known he’s not allowed himself to experience anxiety during the past stretch of months, falling into old habits of taking care of her needs first. 

But then Andy expresses his anxiety and it has nothing to do with her or hers, “What if she doesn’t get born until my birthday?” 

Anya glances over to see Dmitry biting back a laugh. 

“She will be born before we even get into December,” Anya promises him, shifting uncomfortably. 

Andy sticks his pinky out and Anya reaches over and hooks her with his. 

She supposes she really must give birth this month after all. 

“What do you want for your birthday?” Dmitry asks Andy. 

“I want to see a moose,” Andy declares. 

Dmitry blinks at that, an unexpected request. “Yeah, okay I can’t guarantee we will see one but we can go out and try.” 

Andy relaxes back against Dmitry, satisfied with both of his parents' promises. 

As unplanned as the baby is, she wouldn’t change her existence now, but if she could control anything she’d wish they had managed to not have it happen so close to Andy’s birthday. 

Anya tips her head back, studying the night sky. Being in Alaska in general brings her back to nostalgic memories of her childhood, more so than the traumatic ones, the more she returns back. But nothing really brings her back to carefree teenage nights with Dmitry than stretching out in Vlad and Lily’s backyard on a brisk night under the stars. 

She spies a cluster of five stars, brighter than the rest. 

“Dima?” She tugs on the sleeve of his jacket and he turns his head to look at her. “Which constellation is that?” 

Dmitry’s gaze follows where her finger is pointing and he squints slightly as his brain processes and places it, “Cassiopeia.” 

Anya continues to stare up at it, and feels all her wound up tension and anxiety relax just a little bit.


	8. pre

“I thought we were going to watch a movie,” Dmitry says, while pulling Anya’s hips against his. 

Anya laughs, her small hands pushing against his chest against the mattress in the attic. “You never even turned the tv or computer on.” 

“Oh yeah,” he says. That would’ve been an important step to doing that. Instead he had pulled Anya onto his lap in greeting and the intent had been lost with that. 

“What do you want to watch?” She asks, bracing her hands on his shoulders and pulls back. 

The strap of her dress has fallen off her shoulder, her hair thrown haphazardly into a ponytail, her skin is flushed and lips swollen. Honestly, there’s only one program he wants to see, and that’s Anya all the time on an endless loop. 

“You.” 

She smiles, and reaches behind her to unzip her dress. He reaches over and pulls the loop from her hair, causing strawberry curls to fall down in waves as she stands up to step out of her dress. He secures the ponytail holder on his wrist, settling next to another he had taken from her hair earlier in the week. Anya steps out of the dress leaving her clad in only a pair of underwear made of purple cotton and lace. 

“You think I haven’t masturbated in a bed of yours before?” She teases, pressing her tongue against her lower lip, as she lays back down against the bed. She’s laying on the flannel shirt of his she peeled off earlier. 

This isn’t actually what he meant, but he’s too transfixed and turned on to stop her. 

“Recently?” He asks, playing along as she lifts her hips up to push down her underwear. “Or is this back before we got together?” 

Anya slides one hand down her body while using the other to place behind his neck to pull him to kiss her, which seems counterproductive but he’s not one to deny her anything. 

“I’ll leave that to your imagination,” she says, patting him on the cheek. 

She bunches his t-shirt with her free hand, as she lets out little appealing gasps. Dmitry scoots down her body, placing his hands on her knees, applying gentle pressure as he brings his mouth against her. 

Anya moves her fingers out of the way, as she brings both hands to pull at his hair, pushing his head closer to her. 

Every response from her, every gasp, every moan, is an electric current that goes through him. 

“Need you now,” she murmurs, though she whines when he gets up, hands working the buckle on his jeans. Her feet come up to try to push the material down. “Why’re you always wearing so much clothes when I’m naked?”

Dmitry laughs, positioning himself to enter her. “Because you’re so much prettier than I am naked.” 

Anya whimpers, the sound deepening as he thrusts forward. Then it’s just heavy breathing, the slapping of their hips together and wet mouths against whatever skin they can find. 

Her hands wrap around his biceps, her fingers digging into muscles as her hips jerk. They stay there digging in, as she rides out her release. 

“Dima, please,” she says, and he lets go. She moves her hands to his back holding him close. “You feel good.” 

Dmitry smiles against her neck, before rolling off her. “You feel like a dream.”

Anya giggles, rolling onto her side to tuck her body against his frame. “I have to cuddle and run.” 

He wraps his arm around her to give her a squeeze, “Got another date tonight?” 

She sticks her tongue out at him, “Family dinner, they like to see my face every few days.” 

“Ah, so they’re not as needy as me,” Dmitry says and she kisses him before sitting up, pulling her dress back over her head. He pulls her hair out of the way so he can zip her back up. 

He pulls his own jeans back on, as she gets up, pulling his flannel shirt on like a jacket. He stands up to pull her in for another kiss. 

“It’s a mutual neediness,” she assures him, sliding her shoes back on as well. 

“I’ll walk you down,” he tells her, reaching over and pulling his fingers through her hair, smoothing it out to something more presentable. 

“Such a gentleman,” she teases, and loops her hand around his arm so he can walk her out. 

He brings her to the door and she kisses him once, twice before running towards the shortcut that brings her back towards her part of town. 

Dmitry turns around to see Vlad and Lily standing there and he starts. 

“You and Anya!” Vlad exclaims. “Finally, my boy!” Dmitry winces against the enthusiastic slap against his arm where Anya dug in so deep she nearly drew blood. “But this means we are long overdue for a conversation.” 

He looks over at Lily, seeking clarification. “Vlad daring, I think he’s a little too old for that talk.” She says, and reaches into her purse. “So let’s have this one.” She places a box of condoms in his hand. “Be safe, and please do not, under any circumstances, get shot by Nicholas Romanov.” 

Dmitry flushes, uncertain how exactly to respond to that. “I’m...going to my room.” 

Preferably for the next two weeks or so. 

He didn’t wait for a response, just went straight up the stairs.


	9. pre

The captain of the hockey team declares the first night when you could see the northern lights clearly was a good enough excuse for a party. Typically his classmates needed no excuse to throw a party, but Dmitry isn’t one to complain about sitting out on a porch, staring at the sky and sipping from a can of beer. 

It occurs to him that he could easily do this from his own back porch without the noise and chaos of his classmates, but fuck it he has no patience for introspection currently. That and Lily has decided that the living room needs revamping and her and Vlad are full of strong opinions about what sort of curtains should be in that room. 

“Move over Sudayev,” comes a voice, before a foot lightly kicks at his leg. 

Dmitry moves over as directed, and Marfa Spektor joins him in his chair. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you solo before.”

“I’m not alone,” she pats him on the leg. “I’m with you. And I needed a break from Polly and Dunya.”

“Ah,” he says. He knows that feeling all too well sometimes. “Where’s Anya?”

Marfa laughs. “Isn’t that a question usually directed at you?”

Dmitry waves that off, though he supposes it’s true. “Haven’t seen her in about a week.” 

She’d started dating this girl, Eloise, about five weeks before and was more easily distracted than normal. 

“Ouch,” Marfa says, though it isn’t that big of a deal. “Do you want to go on my roof and smoke cigars?” 

Dmitry blinks, “Actually yes.” 

Marfa jumps up, pulling him up by his hand. It’s not too far of a walk to her house. No cars in the driveway, everything dark and sealed up tight. Marfa doesn’t bother turning on a light as she grabs a bottle and some glasses and a box and leads her up to her room. 

Once there, she flips on the light as he opens her window, going out to the patch of roof out there and takes the items from her, setting them down and then offering a hand to help her come out. 

He checks out the bottle as she holds out one of the glasses. “Scotch?” 

She nods as he pours a finger of scotch into the glass, “We are doing cigars in true manly fashion.” 

He pours his own, as he opens the box and she takes out the cigar, cutting it. Dmitry pulls a box of matches out of his pocket and lights it for her. 

She fills her mouth up with smoke, blowing it out and then again until finally she reaches the desired effect and then hands it off to Dmitry. 

Dmitry takes a puff and hands it back to her. Once exhaled, he says, “Why does your dad have mango flavored cigars?” 

Marfa keeps the cigar in hand, opting to take a sip of her scotch. “Because he likes to truly take his time before putting his order in, and keeps adding to his cart so I just slip shit in for fun sometimes.” 

“And he doesn’t notice?” Dmitry asks. 

Marfa arches an eyebrow, “Have you met my dad?” 

“Actually…” Dmitry pretends to think about it as she takes a drag. “I have no idea.” 

She coughs as she exhales, shoving at his shoulder, “Don’t be an ass.” 

She lays back against the roof tile, while he finishes off his drink. 

He lays next to her as she passes the cigar back to him. 

“What a pair we make,” he comments. He feels a bit unanchored, but he can’t pinpoint the source. 

“Oh, we got the northern lights, scotch and cigars,” Marfa tells him, “And each other.” 

She lifts up her fist and he taps his against hers. 

They roll onto their sides at the same time, and he’s not certain who makes the first move but their mouths move together. She tastes of scotch, cigars and mango which, if he had ever thought of her like this before this moment, is probably how he would’ve imagined her tasting like. 

Marfa pulls away, “Hold on,” she breathes, reaching up to put the cigar out on the ashtray she keeps on her windowsill before kissing him again. 

His hand settles on her lower back, and she grips the sleeves of his jacket and it’s nice to not feel so lonely for a moment. Or two. 

It’s a bit relaxing, being surrounded by the autumn breeze and he’s not sure how long this lasts but there’s no pressure or pull to take it any further. 

A few more moments pass, and Marfa pulls away again. 

“Should probably stop,” she sighs, moving to tug the lapels of his coat. 

His nose grazes hers, “Probably.” 

“Too bad this isn’t anything,” she says, gesturing between the two of them as he rolls onto his back and she sits up. “You’d be such an easy boy to date.” 

“Thanks,” he says, and he pulls himself back up to a sitting position. “I know several girls that would definitely disagree with you.” 

Marfa smirks at that, “Well I have an advantage over them.” 

“You’re one of my best friends?” He ventures. 

“No- well yes, but not that,” she says. She studies him for a long moment and he wonders if he’s supposed to be aware of what the advantage is. “I’ll let you figure that one out, though.” 

Oh, so yes he is. 

Dmitry gathers the bottle and glasses up as Marfa climbs back into her room. She takes them from him as he follows her in. 

“Go find Anya,” she tells him, pushing him slightly on the chest with the bottle. “No one is going to want to deal with either of you if you spend more than a week apart.” 

“We’ve spent more than a week apart before,” Dmitry protests. 

“I know,” Marfa says, “That’s how I know no one will want to deal with either of you.” 

“I’ll contact her in the morning,” he promises. “Good night, Spektor.” 

She salutes him in response.

Dmitry comes back home to find Anya already asleep in his bed. 

“Gross,” she says, sleepily as he slips into bed beside her. “You smell like cigar smoke.” 

She takes his hand to pull his arm around her anyway though.


	10. pre (2014 i think??)

Dmitry’s at his workshop far too early when his phone rings. He’s not certain if he should be annoyed or concerned when his phone lights up, letting him know Marfa is calling him. In case it’s the latter he picks up quickly. 

“Spektor,” he greets her. Out of habit, and also because he enjoys Gleb’s wince whenever he uses it and Marfa never corrects him. “Why are you up this early?”

“I lost all concept of time when the twins started teething,” she responds. “Why are you answering the phone so early?” 

“I’m always at your beck and call,” he evades, hoping to avoid a lecture on how he spends too much of his time at work and the boats and avoiding moving on in general. 

“Speaking of,” Marfa’s voice trails off as there's a cry in the background. “Hold on.” She moves away from the sound. “Remember when I let you crash at my place for an extended period of time after Anya left, and you said if there was anything you could ever do to repay me just ask?”

That was an unexpected reminder of everything he has worked hard at forgetting and the words cause a sharp pain in the area where his heart should be. “And for what reason are we bringing up the lowest point of my life?” 

Dmitry isn’t even certain if Anya deserves the distinction of causing the lowest point of his life, when there have been so many more battling for the spot. The loss of people who haven’t left by choice. His mother. His father. Her siblings. Vlad. But it’s the ghost of hers that haunts him the most at night. 

“I need a babysitter,” and then adds, before he can complain about the unfairness of bringing up the girl they all spent so much time avoiding talking about for a simple request. “It’ll make sense after you spend an hour with them.” 

“I’ve spent time with Noah and Owen before,” Dmitry points out. He’d spent the weekend before on the back porch with them and Gleb, Marfa, Polly, Dunya and a teacher from the school Polly worked at that they had set him up with. 

“Yes, after they’ve fed, napped and been made into presentable little demons,” Marfa says. “It’s tonight. My dad was supposed to come into town and visit through the weekend, but he just called to cancel and we are supposed to go out tonight with Polly and Dunya because Dun’s having her first IVF treatment today and…”

“I can watch them,” Dmitry tells her, stopping her from continuing to ramble. Rambling had become a habit of hers since becoming a mother. “What time?” 

“Be here by 4?” She asks. “We are going out of town because…well, you live here you know.” 

“Of course,” he promises. “Anything else?” 

“Bring your own aspirin,” Marfa tells him. “We are almost out and you’re definitely going to need it.” 

“You make babysitting sound so charming,” he teases. “Did you need me to just pick you up a new bottle?” 

“Please,” she says. “You’re the best boy I’ve never dated.” Then transitions into, “Have you talked to Abbie lately?” 

“And here I thought the universe gave you two babies at once to help distract you from meddling in my life,” he sighs. “And no, I didn’t think she liked me too much. I think at one point she compared me to Mr Rochester.” 

“Women love Mr Rochester,” Marfa reminds him. 

Maybe but, “He’s best known for hiding a wife in his attic.” 

“She was nervous and made a bad joke,” Marfa defends her. “And you wouldn’t keep having this problem if you just allowed your wife to divorce you.”

“What makes you think she’s tried?” Dmitry asks her. 

Marfa snorts, “Mitya I work for your lawyer and also I know both of you.” 

“You know one of us,” he points out. “And knew the other.” 

“You’re right,” and she takes a deep breath. Yoga is a thing Polly’s got her on since she first was pregnant. He’s certain her giving in right now is more because she wants to make sure he will come and babysit than actually agreeing with him. “And you should reach out to Abbie. Or someone. You deserve happiness and love.” 

This is not a conversation he wants to be having so early in the morning and before work. He gets enough self love pep talks from Lily. 

“Should I see if she wants to go out tonight?” 

“Fuck off,” Marfa returns. “If you’re not here by 4:15 I will hunt you down.” 

“I’ll see you at 4,” he promises, and then adds. “And I’ll see if Abbie wants to go out this weekend. Without a large group surrounding us.” 

“Thank you,” she says, “Can’t believe I didn’t have to pull out the godfather card once.” 

“My gift to you,” he says, and looks down at his watch for the time. “I gotta get started on my day, see you later.” 

“Love you,” she tells him before hanging up. 

He writes a text out to Abbie and sends it before putting away his phone for the rest of the day. He can get to all of that later.


	11. 2020: middle name chronicles

It’s about a month before Anya’s due date, and after everything the thing they find struggling with the most is what to make her. Dmitry wasn’t anticipating this being an actual issue but now he thought about it Andy came already naked and so the only thing he ever named was Marmalade. (We are not naming our daughter after food, was Anya’s first guideline). And Anya had only named her dog Pooka (I was a child, she was quick to point out.) 

“We could revisit…” 

“No A names,” she interrupts before he can even finish his thought. “Anastasia, Andrew, and if we name her something with an A name that leaves you out.” 

“I’ll just change it to Admitry,” he teases and she reaches over to poke him in the chest. 

“I do like the star idea in general though,” Anya continues on. “What about Ursula?” 

Dmitry makes a face, “So we can sing her Poor Unfortunate Souls every night before bed?” 

“Oh yeah,” she frowns, scrolling down further on her phone. 

“What’re you guys doing?” Andy asks, coming from the kitchen where he and Lily have been making cookies. 

“Trying to think of a name for your sister,” Anya says as Dmitry reaches over and pulls him onto his lap. 

“Oh baby stuff,” he sounds dejected. 

They’ve tried to keep a balance of focusing on Andy things and not just baby things but the closer they got to her appearance in the world the more difficult that was proving to be. 

Anya looks over at him, this weird silent communication they’ve been perfecting for over twenty years now, and Dmitry nods. 

“Andy I’m glad you’re here,” Anya tells him reaching over to brush his hair back. “We need your help.” 

“With what?” 

“Remember when we had you choose your middle name?” Anya asks, and he nods his head, attention fully turned to her now. “And you did such a good job coming up with Jacob?” 

“Yes,” Andy responds. 

“Well, we are taking so long trying to come up with your sister’s first name,” Anya continues on, “We haven’t had any time to think of a middle name.” Well, she’s not wrong there. “Did you want to help us come up with a middle name for her?” 

Andy looks a little suspicious, “You’d let me help name your baby?” 

“Of course, it’s your sister,” Dmitry tells him. “And we trusted you to give our son his middle name. Consider it your first big brother duty.” 

“Okay,” Andy decides and jumps up off Dmitry’s lap. “I’ll be back.” 

It’s going to be embarrassing when it takes him less time to come up with a middle name than it has for them to come up with the first name. 

“So,” Anya says, setting her phone down. “We shouldn’t bother trying to come up with a name until after he chooses a middle name, right? Like, to make sure it’ll go with it?” 

Dmitry nods, eager to not try to attach a name to a human being permanently at the moment. “The responsible thing to do is to wait.” 

She tilts her her head back and he takes the cue to kiss her, “Do you want to go see if the cookies are done?”

Dmitry can take a hint and pads out to the kitchen where Andy and Lily’s heads are bent, whispering. They stop when Dmitry enters the room. 

“Don’t worry,” he tells them, grabbing a plate to load cookies onto. “I’m just here for the cookies and then I’ll be gone.” 

Andy nods, but his eyes still narrow suspiciously. 

He goes back to where Anya is on the sofa, holding out the plate and she takes two before he sets it down on the coffee table and sits back down next to her. 

Anya maneuvers her feet onto his lap. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” Dmitry tells her, his hands absently massaging her calves. “Our son nearly killed me for interrupting his brainstorming session with Lily though.” 

She polishes off the first cookie and sighs contentedly, resting her cheek against the back cushion of the sofa, “I love when you say that. Our son.” 

It’s been a little over a year but there’s still something so novel about saying it and it makes him smile too. “Wait until we start saying our children.” 

Anya’s eyes get watery, which is an increasingly common thing the more into her pregnancy she gets. It makes his eyes water slightly too in reaction. “I love having a family with you.”

She reaches over and pulls on his T-shirt and he obligingly leans over and kisses her. There’s chocolate on her lip. 

“You guys are always doing that,” Andy complains, coming back into the room with a paper in hand. This was a more formal naming ceremony than Dmitry was expecting. 

And yes they were, it’s the reason Andy was getting a sister in the first place. 

“Did you come up with a middle name already?” Anya asks him, shooting a discreet but panicked look at Dmitry. They had been going back and forth on names for months, and the five year old came up with one in less than an hour. 

“Yes,” he says and Dmitry remembers that children have bravado that has long been shed from adults and they don’t have as many crises as adults do about naming permanent things. “I made a drawing of it.” 

Dmitry takes the paper from their son, tilting it so Anya can see it as well. It’s an impressively drawn figure of a blonde girl in a blue dress. He’s seen Lena’s drawings so he knows the fact that he can make out exactly what Andy was going for whenever he drew, even if it wasn’t perfect by adult standards, was an impressive feat. 

“Is that Alice in Wonderland?” Anya asks, and Dmitry really hopes the intended middle name is Alice and not Wonderland because he remembers some of the names Andy came up with when they were brainstorming his middle name. 

“Yes!” Andy says, and he takes one of the cookies off the plate Dmitry brought out. “Her middle name is Alice.” 

“An A name, you are your father’s son,” Anya says, tugging Andy over to give him the version of a hug she can currently manage. “I love it, and your drawing and you.” 

Andy makes a face and wriggles out of his mother’s grasp, “Thanks.” 

As if anticipating a more emotional response the longer he stayed out there, Andy grabs another cookie and runs back to the kitchen. 

Anya reaches over and wipes her fingers on Dmitry’s shirt before taking the drawing from him. “We are going to need to buy a baby book.” 

They have a box full of stuff they’ve collected since they originally fostered Andy that should also be organized. It’s probably good to start off organized with the baby as well. “We can order one for no name Alice Sudayev and one for Andy tomorrow.” 

He takes the drawing from her and stands up to go put it somewhere in a safe place.


	12. pre

The first time Anya is introduced to James, she thinks he looks like the type of boy that Maria would date. Her sister always went after the clean cut, soft spoken, kind men who looked as though they’d grow up to wear suits to work. It was a nice anchor to her sister's own restless nature. 

Anya seems to be collecting various things belonging to her sisters, and she doesn’t mean the collections she absently buys in their memory. Tatiana’s career, Olga’s tendency to over absorb herself in work. She’s not certain if she’s taken on something from Alexei, but if she could choose she wishes she had his heart. Hers feels both empty and hard most of these days and no one knew better how to love without reservation than her brother. Except maybe…

So it only makes sense she says yes to going out for coffee with him. 

The only other time she’s seen her Aunt Xenia so proud of her is when she originally showed up in Paris, her wedding ring abandoned back in Alaska. 

Relationships haven’t lasted long for Anya since she moved to Paris. She didn’t date at all for the first year, holding onto the idea she only came for a breather and not forever. When she did start dating every touch, every caress, every kiss felt like a betrayal. And it wasn’t cheating, even if the divorce papers come back to her unsigned. 

Eventually she feels as though she moves past that mental obstacle. But it’s mentally and emotionally exhausting to create a lasting connection to another human being. 

It occurs to her she’s never really been with anyone who didn’t know anything about her really. Even the people she was with before her ill-fated marriage had known her in some capacity at another point of her life. The small Alaska town and her parents' very small circle of friends had limited her selection. 

The thought should revitalize her, give her energy. She doesn’t want to be Anastasia Romanov, daughter and sister to a murdered family. 

James knows a bit of what happened to her family, he has to given that she met him through one of her cousins. But he doesn’t know the bold, carefree girl she had been before and he doesn’t know what she looks like at her lowest and he hasn’t spent years keeping her above ground and trying to keep the hollow look out of her eyes. 

She goes on several more dates with him, hating herself for thriving on the validation she gets from her family for doing so. A bad habit she had fallen into during the after part of her life. I’m normal, I’m good are regular thoughts in her head when she’s complimented for such things. To the point where she’s not certain if her hearts even in it or if she’s going through the motions of what she should be doing. 

It’s a pattern. 

And she feels that drifting, pulling away sensation creeping up on her one night when they’re out to dinner, James speaking of something his nephew has done. Showing photos. 

She smiles because his nephew is cute, and children’s antics are charming. 

“They’re having another one,” he’s saying, seeming nervous about bringing the topic up. Her hand clenches into a fist under the table, dreading this conversation. “I’m so happy for them. But I don’t know, I don’t think having children of my own is something I want in my future.”

Oh. He’s gauging her reaction and feels herself relax. There’s test results warning her against ever having children buried in a garbage pile somewhere back in Alaska. 

She’s probably going to marry James, she realizes. Not just because they have similar goals in mind when it comes to their future family but also because she needs to stop comparing every little thing to teenaged passions. 

She unclenches her hand, reaching over the table to take his and squeezes gently. 

“Me too,” and even though it was a decision she made years ago it feels a little bit like a lie. 

He smiles and she allows herself the freedom to fall in love with him.  



	13. 2016

“What does your engagement ring look like?” Dmitry looks around his apartment as though expecting to find that Anya is crouched behind his sofa instead of still at work. 

Marfa snorts on the other end of the phone line, four hours behind him and thousands of miles away but he can read her reaction as though she were standing right beside him. “I don’t have one.”

Dmitry blinks at that and tries to picture Marfa’s hand and realizes he hasn’t paid much attention. “You don’t?” 

“It’s a waste of money,” she sighs. “For me. Isn’t it a little early to be concerned about pulling Anya back into the state of matrimony?”

“I don’t care when it happens,” Dmitry says, pulling his hand through his hair. “I just want to be ready for when it does.” 

“Oh Mitya,” Marfa sighs, and there’s a distant sound of at least one child in the background. “You’re the only guy I know who would divorce a girl just so he can marry her all over again.” 

“That’s not why…” Dmitry shakes his head, choosing not to get into the details of the divorce and friendship and reconciliation. “I want it to seem thought out.” 

“You guys aren’t teenagers anymore,” she says. “But have you thought it out?” 

Saying he didn’t need to seemed counterproductive to proving his point. “It’s Anya or nothing for me.” 

Which was true. No matter how much he had tried to push past that fact during the five years they were apart. 

Marfa sighs because she’s nowhere near the romantic the rest of them are. She’s never been much for dreams. “You know Anya. You don’t need my help.” He can practically hear her chewing on her lower lip and picture her pacing the floor outside the twins’ room. “Buy her a ring pop, she’d still say yes.”

“You’re so helpful,” he says and she makes a noise in response before saying her goodbyes. 

-

Dmitry drops his phone while looking at rings later that night when Anya enters his apartment, shutting the door behind her and sliding her arms around him from behind to kiss his cheek in greeting. There’s no way to make that seem like a smooth move so he pretends like it’s not there. 

“You smell good,” he tells her instead. 

She kisses him one more time before pulling away, “I brought pizza.”

“Ah,” he says, sliding his phone into his pocket. “That explains it.” 

He goes out to his kitchen to pull some plates and some wine. 

“What did you do this afternoon?” she asks, stepping into the kitchen with the box. 

“Talked to Marfa,” he says, which is the truth.

“About what?” She asks, taking the plates to move the pizza onto them, while Dmitry pours the wine. 

Here comes the lie. “The twins.” 

“Ah,” Anya says, and she exchanges one of the plates for a glass of wine. “Causing trouble?”

Almost definitely. 

“As their Godfather,” Dmitry responds. “I have no official comment on that.” 

She smiles softly and shakes her head before going back out into the living room. 

-

The more Dmitry tries not to act suspicious, the more he feels like he’s acting suspicious. He clears his internet search history every time he finds himself searching for rings on his laptop. He’s got a folder on his phone for photos of rings that is mislabeled. 

Anya hardly uses his laptop, sometimes she does remember to bring her own over to his place when she comes over for the night. 

“Dima,” Anya says, rolling over in bed, to curl into his side. She nuzzles her nose against his shoulder. 

“Hmm?” Dmitry asks, shutting his laptop and setting it aside so he can wrap an arm around her shoulder. 

“Love you,” she tells him. 

Dmitry smiles, pressing his lips against the top of her head, “That all?”

Anya just hums in response. Maybe there’s something to what Marfa was telling him before- not about her being happy with any ring- he remembers the gold of her engagement ring from James and how misplaced it had looked on her hand. In more ways than one. But he does know Anya. 

-

“This one,” Anya announces, tipping a lampshade at an angle so he can see it better. “Definitely says I am the lamp of a future Doctor of Engineering.” 

“That’s a very specific thing for a lamp to say,” Dmitry tells her. 

She rounds back around to where he’s standing and kisses him on the lips. “You should hear what your own furniture says about you.” 

“I doubt it’s nothing quite as nice as what my bed says about you,” he whispers in her ear, and she swats at his arm and walks back to the very talkative lamps. 

Dmitry goes to follow her when something catches his attention out of the corner of his eye. He looks to see Anya is still focusing on lamps, and not much on him. He sees a row of rings, one ring one with a swirling pattern and three diamonds. It’s perfect and he can’t believe he’s in the middle of an antique store in Long Island with Anya and has no idea how to sneak it out of here without her noticing. 

He looks over at her and wonders the odds of being able to get back out of here and still have the ring here. 

Dmitry takes out his phone and types a message he will have to pay dearly for later on and asks Dunya to not ask questions but to call Anya with an emergency. 

He steps away from the rings to peruse some vintage cufflinks as Anya picks up her phone. She frowns in concern and then walks over to Dmitry, squeezing his arm and pointing at her phone before going outside. 

Dmitry goes back over to the rings, keeping one eye on the door as he gets the attention of the shop owner to purchase the ring. 

He’s slipped it into his coat pocket as she walks back in. 

“Everything okay?” He asks her as he takes her hand as she walks past him. 

“Yeah,” Anya responds, squeezing his hand. “Dunya was just feeling overwhelmed with Lena and all while Polly’s away helping chaperone some school thing. She needed to vent.” She tugs on the edge of his coat, hands dangerous close to the ring he just bought. “Find what you’re looking for?” 

“Yeah,” Dmitry says, and reaches over and picks up the lamp she was showing him before. “You think this is the one?” 

Anya nods, “I don’t think you’ll get your PhD without it.” 

“Well in that case,” Dmitry says. “I guess I can’t afford to not get it.” 

“You won’t regret it,” Anya tells him and he knows he never could.


	14. 2019

Whenever Anya wakes up from a nightmare she reaches for Dmitry, only to reach air. It reminds her of the first months back in Paris after she initially left Alaska. It adds a bad taste to her mouth on top of all the other emotions leftover from the dream she just had. It takes her a few moments to pull herself back to the present. And to remember she’s in an apartment in New York City and Dmitry is currently in the middle of Ohio for some sort of conference. 

She grabs her phone, sending the video request as she slides out of bed. 

Dmitry answers on the second ring, turning on the light in the hotel room as he answers. 

“Everything okay with you and Andy?” He asks as he pulls his hand through his hair. 

“Yes,” she says as she turns on the kitchen light. “Just missed you is all.” 

“Miss you too,” Dmitry returns. “Want to talk about it?” 

“Nope,” Anya returns as she turns the kettle on. “Just want to drink my tea and see your face. How is Cleveland?” 

“Looks a lot like the inside of a hotel so far,” he tells her. “How’s Andy?” 

“He’s been quiet,” Anya says. He’s never been the most talkative kid since he’s come to stay with them but with Dmitry’s absence he’s gotten even quieter. “Still adjusting.”

“We should do something when I get back,” Dmitry suggests as the kettle starts to whistle, she quickly reaches over to remove it from the heat. “A museum or something.” 

“I’ll see what’s going on,” Anya agrees, trying to remember what Andy’s shown interest in. It’s late and her mind isn’t working much so she files it away to look up when she’s awake for real. 

“Anya?” Comes a small voice from the doorway. 

“I should go,” Anya tells Dmitry, looking over to where Andy is padding across the room towards her. “Hey Andy, want to say goodnight to Dmitry?” 

“Already did,” Andy reminds her, referring to the phone call hours earlier when Dmitry had called to say goodnight to him. But he waves at the phone anyway. “Night Dmitry.” 

“Night Andy,” Dmitry waves back before addressing Anya again. “Love you.” 

“Love you too,” she returns before ending the call. She helps lift Andy up onto the stool next to the counter. “What’re you doing up?”

His blue eyes look very concerned, “I thought I heard screaming?” 

“Oh honey,” Anya says, reaching over to smooth his hair. “Can I give you a hug?” 

“Do you need a hug?” Andy asks her, and opens his arms. 

She lifts him up in a hug, and kisses the top of his head. “I did, thank you. I’m sorry I woke you up with my nightmare.”

Andy sits back on the stool when she puts him down. “You have nightmares?” 

She pulls out a small mug and pours him half a cup of tea. “I do. And when I do, I drink this tea to feel better.” 

He blows on the tea before taking a sip of it, “Does it work?” 

“Yes,” Anya tells him as she takes a sip of her own. “The hug helped too.” 

Andy smiles at that, and she reaches over to stroke his cheek. “I have nightmares too.” 

“Want to talk about it?”

Andy is not the first kid to come and stay with them since her and Dmitry became foster parents but he’s definitely the one that has dug the furthest into her heart. 

“No,” he says, taking another sip of the tea. “The tea’s help.” 

“See, I told you,” Anya says. “Ready to go back to bed?” 

Andy nods, “Do you need me to read a bedtime story?” 

“That would be wonderful,” Anya says, lifting him up off the stool. “Go grab a book and you can meet me in my room?” 

“I’ll get a good one,” he promises her, as she sets him down on the ground. 

She turns the lamp on, before getting back into bed. Andy runs in a moment later, holding a Dr Seuss book. He climbs into bed, crawling past Dmitry’s spot to sit next to Anya. 

She wraps her arm around him as he opens the book and starts telling her the story of Horton. 

When she wakes up the next morning her and Dmitry definitely need to have a discussion about seeing if they’re able to take the next step with fostering Andy.


	15. 2006: June

“Do you want to play a game?” Anya asks Dmitry, the skirt of her dress twirling around her. It’s pink lace and tulle, makes her feel as though she is turning a year younger rather than celebrating becoming a year older. 

“It’s not actually your birthday,” Dmitry replies. He’s wearing his best suit, which is actually a suit of his father’s, and she appreciates the effort he’s put into attending this ridiculous party her grandmother and aunts have swooped in to throw her. “But I feel like it’s still illegal to say no to the birthday girl.” 

Her birthday had been over two weeks before and she and her siblings, along with Dmitry and the rest of their closest friends had gone out camping by the river for it. Her mother had originally fussed about allowing Alexei to go, too worried about something happening to him but eventually Dmitry had promised to keep Alexei by his side and that he’d borrow Vlad’s truck to have nearby in case something happened and she had relented. 

During the day Dmitry had brought her and Maria out on one of the boats. 

It had been a rather grand way to spend her birthday, but her grandmother had come to visit and disagreed. 

So here they were tonight, having a birthday party that very much was not about her. 

“Had I known it was illegal to say no to me on my birthday,” Anya tells him, “I would’ve taken more advantage of it.” 

“Here’s to hoping you forget by next year,” Dmitry says, sipping at the champagne flute she had snuck over to him. 

If they didn’t want them to sneak drinks that night, they shouldn’t be serving alcohol at all at a teenager’s birthday party. 

“Doubtful,” she sing songs back to him, already tucking the information away for later. As though Dmitry didn’t already have a history of giving into her. 

Anya watches as Katya’s cousin, Eleanor, eyes Dmitry and remembers her purpose. 

“I bet I can get more girls to kiss me tonight than you can,” She tells him. She’d say people, but her pool of potential people to kiss is greater than his, so this helps level the playing field. 

Dmitry snorts in response, “Absolutely not.” At her offended gasp. “As I said, you’re the birthday girl, no one is going to say no to you.” 

“I have to find girls who kiss other girls,” she reminds him. “It involves much more research where you have heternormative presumption on your side.” 

He rolls his eyes, “Why do you want to play this game?” 

“This party is painfully dull,” she says, despite the fact it’s in her honor. It’s very much an adult’s idea of a lovely party. Including the presence of said adults. “And I like kissing. And beating you at games.” 

“And what does the winner get?” 

Anya chews on her lower lip as she thinks. “Movie choice for the entire month of July.” 

Now he’s definitely intrigued. 

“Fine,” he agrees. “Honor system when it comes to numbers.” 

Anya reaches over and shakes his hand in agreement, and then steals the flute of champagne from his hand to finish it off. 

-

She loses twenty minutes in the coat room learning the texture of Julia Chekova’s tongue before realizing she needs to not get so distracted by the kissing if she wants to produce numbers. 

Anya enters the ballroom again to see her own sister up on her toes and kissing Dmitry’s cheeks. He smirks as Anya storms up to them, grabbing Maria’s arm. 

“That doesn’t count,” Anya tells him. 

“You never specified where they had to kiss me,” Dmitry points out, and she tries not to think of all the other places girls could be kissing him. 

“You play dirty at games all the time with these type of semantics,” Maria points out, proving she was conspiring to betray her on her own birthday. “I say it counts.” 

Anya presses a hand against her chest, “My own sister.” 

It may or may not be revenge against Anya for the last time she had competed against Maria, but who could remember such things. 

Then Anya lets out a huff annoyance that Dmitry seems to have disappeared as she was distracted by Maria’s betrayal. 

She needed to stay on top of her game. She didn’t think she could last an entire month watching only poorly made science fiction movies. 

-

When the clock strikes midnight, the proper time for a party of a young lady to end according to her Aunt Olga, Anya’s lips are swollen and her body is humming from unfulfilled desire and champagne. 

She hopes the walk to Vlad and Lily’s house will quell that, now she’s no longer kissing. The night air is chilly for June and she makes her way through the back entrance, walking up the stairs to where Dmitry’s room is open. 

He’s already wearing pajama pants and a t-shirt but his lips are still smudged with various shades of lipstick. 

“Showing off your battle wounds?” She asks him, as he hugs her in greeting. 

He brushes his thumb against her lip, “As though you’re not doing the same.” 

Her lips are tender and she coaches herself to not react to the pad of his thumb against them. They’ve just been overworked that night and are sensitive to any type of stimulation. 

“Let me get changed and we can exchange numbers,” she tells him and he hands her a T-shirt proclaiming to take back Sunday on it. 

She walks into the bathroom adjacent to his room, reaching behind her to find the zipper stuck. 

Anya walks back into his bedroom, as Dmitry works to wipe off the stains on his mouth. 

“That’s an odd choice to sleep in,” he comments. 

She turns in front of him, lifting her hair up. “I need help with this stupid zipper.” 

Dmitry clears his throat, “Oh...okay.” 

She feels his hand pressed against her back and the hard tug against her zipper as it catches for him as well. The fingers grasping her send electric shocks through her systems, restarting up the tingling she felt earlier from the champagne she imbibed and the kissing she partook in. 

A side effect. Nothing at all to do with her best friend. 

Finally the zipper releases and he pulls it until it’s halfway down her back. 

“Should be good,” he mumbles, stepping aside. Anya finds herself unable to turn her head to look at him and slips back into the bathroom to step out of her dress and pull on the T-shirt. 

The shirt falls about halfway down her thighs, and she tugs the hem down slightly. She pulls the Bobby pins out that were securing her hair in a loose half updo before going back into his room. 

It was an unspoken agreement that she’d just sleepover at his house after her party. She can’t even remember it being a decision. 

Dmitry hands her a pen and a piece of scrap paper. “Write it down and exchange it.”

Anya nods, scribbling her number down and folding it and passing it off to Dmitry as he passes her his. 

She lets out a disappointed groan as she reads it. “I can’t believe you beat me! On my birthday!” 

“It’s not your birthday,” he’s quick to remind her. “And I didn’t even count Maria’s, I just saw you and wanted to annoy you.”

Anya pouts because she lost, and because she’s trying not to think of all the other kisses of his that she caught and felt the tug of annoyance. Annoyance of potentially losing. 

“I don’t know if I can sleep here tonight,” she tells him, probably dramatically. 

“Okay,” he says easily, holding out his hand. “I will need my shirt back then.” 

The reckless part of Anya wants to pull the shirt off and hand it to him, just to see his reaction. But there’s a dangerous energy in the air she doesn’t quite recognize and thinks they’ve spent too much time flirting with others all night and it’s spilling over to their own interactions. 

“You’re never getting this back,” she warns him as she steps onto his bed, taking her normal side of it. 

“I know,” Dmitry says, stretching out on the bed beside her. “Lily is forever complaining about how many shirts she has to buy me.” 

Anya pinches him in return, “She does not.” 

“You’ll never know,” Dmitry says. 

She hovers over him, forgetting what she meant to do as her eyes lock with his. His lips feel a breath away and she pulls away at the last moment, tucking her face against his chest. She’s working on autopilot now, after their game. 

“Your heart is beating wildly,” she comments, the thumping loud against her ear. 

His fingers grip her waist, “It’s from the champagne.” 

Anya accepts that answer, closing her eyes and willing sleep to take over. 

-

She’s stretched out on the grass somewhere. Open air and lemongrass fill her nose as an unfocused figure bends down to kiss her. His… there are no discerning features and it seems more like a silhouette than a person but the presence feels male… mouth is familiar and keeps drawing her out for more. He moves lower, kissing her breast over the cloth of her shirt, and pushing her hem up as he drags his mouth down her abdomen. 

He braces his hands on her bent knees, opening her further before his mouth takes her in the most intimate kiss of all. His tongue working her up slowly, as she pushes her hips up, needing more. She tugs at his hair, wanting him closer and closer to bring her closer and closer right before…

Anya smells the lemongrass before she awakes, her forehead beaded with sweat. There’s a slick heat between her legs she finds her hand dangerously close to before she remembers where she is. 

Dmitry’s bed. That explains the lingering scent of lemongrass. The figure of her dream remains a mystery. 

They’ve shifted positions during the night. Dmitry on his side facing away from her, but his arm slung back, fingers brushing against her rib cage. 

She rubs her legs together, as though that was going to dispel the current demand between her legs. 

Anya takes a deep breath and another one. She can’t be aroused in Dmitry’s bed, the fact alone should be enough to temper her desire. 

Instead the lemongrass just stupidly reminds her of her dream and how she woke up before reaching any sort of climax. 

“You’re fidgeting,” Dmitry mumbles, moving his hand off of her. 

She finds she misses the sensation of being touched. Not by him. Just an evening of making out and working herself up and not finding someone to fully hook up with was poor planning for a game she ended up losing. 

“Sorry,” she says, but can’t stop fidgeting, fighting her body’s urge to be touched. “Just had a dream.” 

Anya definitely shouldn’t have said that. 

Because then he asks, “Bad dream?”

He’s still turned away from her. 

“No,” and she clears her throat as though that’s going to clear away the breathless tone in it. “Just a restless one.” 

Dmitry makes a noise in response, turning his head towards his pillow. He tenses as she taps him on the shoulder. 

She’s glad he stays faced away from her, not certain what stupid and reckless decisions she’s capable if he turned his face towards hers. 

“Everything ok?” 

“Just tired,” he says, but swings his feet off the bed. “Forgot to brush my teeth, I’ll be right back.” 

Anya just nods in response as he slips through the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. She tries to calm her body down, listening to the bathroom sink faucet be turned on at full speed. 

It doesn’t, and she bites her lip as her hands slides under the blanket. Maybe if she just touched herself real quick the overwhelming urge to do so will go away. 

Her body clenches greedily around her finger, both in relief and demand. Her mind shuts off as her hips jerk, seeking what her dream hadn’t given to her. She slips another finger in, gasping in relief, curling at the tension her body had been seeking. She quickens the speed, committing that this is the only way to get rid of these leftover desires from earlier in the night that manifested in her dream. 

There’s a groan developing in the back of her throat, and she reaches over pulling Dmitry’s pillow over her face to muffle any sounds she makes. 

And then her orgasm hits her fast, her dream having done most of the work for her. 

Anya moves Dmitry’s pillow back to its place, as her body comes back down. 

There’s the sound of water being shut off and the toilet flushing. 

She moves further towards her side of the bed, trying to already forget the fact she had felt so out of control she had…. 

She probably owed him a months worth of movie choices now. 

Anya sits up as he enters the room again and hopes she doesn’t look half as dazed as she still feels.

“How’s your teeth?” She asks in what she hopes to be a normal voice. 

Dmitry leans over, blowing air towards her nose, proving he was nowhere near as affected by the night’s game as she had been. “Minty fresh.” 

“Gross,” she says, and lays back down. “Keep your mouth away from me.” 

He stretches back down beside her, his hand coming over to play with her hair. “Still restless?” 

She shook her head, “Nope, just tired now.” 

“Night,” he yawns. 

“Night, Mitya,” she returns, and closes her eyes. 

She doesn’t get much sleep, however, too afraid to have another dream like she did.


	16. 2006: Thunderstorms

Anya can feel Dmitry twitching beneath her hand before she’s even fully awake. The sound of thunder, has her sitting up, her hand still placed on Dmitry’s chest. He reaches up and pulls her back to him. 

“You awake?” She whispers. They’ve fallen asleep in the attic room. The television screen has a screensaver up, the movie they were watching long over. 

“Trying not to be,” he says and his arms tense around her as a flash of lightning illuminates the room. “Kiss me?” 

Anya turns around in his embrace to oblige him, pouring all she has into the act of kissing him. She pulls away when he sighs into her mouth. 

She smooths back his hair, “Never were a fan of thunderstorms, were you?” 

“I’m fine,” he tells her, his eyes still closed, and his heart jumping beneath his palm. 

Anya kisses his cheek, the corner of his mouth. “What can i do?” 

“Nothing,” because he very rarely asks anything of her. He opens his eyes to give her a tired smile,”I’m fine.” 

“Let me do something for you,” Anya continues on. “Watch another movie?” He shakes his head. “Read to you?” Dmitry smirks and shakes his head. “Handjob?” 

He lets out a laugh, “I’d never say no to that. I’m fine, I promise you.” 

She settles back against his side, wrapping her arm around his waist, her cheek against his shoulder. “Say it one more time and maybe I’ll believe you.”

“Anastasia Romanov,” he says, rolling over so he hovers over her. She makes a face at the use of her full name. “I’m fine.” 

Anya pulls him down to kiss her. “Not talking about how you look.” 

Dmitry laughs against her mouth, “The storm will pass.” 

“They always do,” Anya says, “But what can I do, as best friend and girlfriend, until it does?”

“You’re already doing something,” he tells her, kissing her again. “I like sleeping next to you.” 

“Good,” she says, rolling onto her side, as he lays back beside her. “You’ve been doing it for about seven years.” 

Anya loves the feel of his arm locked against her rib cage, as though holding her from falling over some unseen edge. 

“It’s different now,” he tells her. 

“I know,” she agrees. “Though still just as handsy.” 

“The hands are just much more intentional,” he says, pressing a kiss against her hair. 

Another bolt of lightning fills the room and several claps of thunder. 

Anya reaches down to clasp his hand. “Olga FaceTimed us from college the other day and you know what her roommate said?” 

“What’s that?” 

“New England has the best fish in America.”

“What?” Dmitry is sitting up now. “That’s absurd.” 

At least he wasn’t focused on the storm now. 

“Even said Manhattan Clam Chowder is pretty good,” she says biting back a smile at the offended look he has from that. 

Dmitry reaches over and tickles her side and she yelps. 

“Now I know you’re just fucking with me.” 

“Olga said she was going to try some next time she’s on the east coast,” Anya gasps as he finds the spot below her rib cage. 

“Your sister is too smart for that,” he points out, pulling Anya’s hands over her head so she can stop trying to push his hands away. 

“Maybe I’ll try Manhattan Clam Chowder one day,” she announces, causing him to growl at her in response. 

She listens for a moment or two. 

“Storm’s over,” he tells her, and she pulls him down for a kiss. “And you’re never trying Manhattan Clam Chowder, not even if you’re in Manhattan.” 

“Got no plans to go anywhere but here,” she says, letting him pull her against him again. “Want to start another movie?” 

“No,” he says, kissing the top of her head. “Let’s just go back to sleep.” 

She locks her leg around his and closes her eyes again. She can do that.


	17. november 29 2020

Their daughter still didn’t seem real. Not even after she’d been cleaned up and all the doctors and nurses had finally left the room, and she’s nestled in her mother’s arms. Very real, very pink and squirming. 

He’s never seen Anya look so in love, and he knows he has a similar look on his face. Their daughter’s little mitten covered fist stretches up, her face scrunched up in a yawn. She has a sprinkling of strawberry colored hair on the top of her head that’s currently covered in a purple cap. 

“She’s going to need a name eventually,” Anya comments as he reaches over to brush his knuckle against the baby’s cheek. 

“Don’t want to put No Name Alice Sudayev on the birth certificate?” Dmitry teases. 

“Seems like she might interpret that as cruel in a few years,” Anya responds, and she hasn’t looked at him once in this conversation, her eyes never leaving their daughter. 

“I thought we’d have one by now,” Dmitry says, as the baby sandwiches her finger in between her two hands. 

“I had a thought earlier,” Anya says, shifting their daughter slightly in her arms. “And I don’t know if it’s the delirium or hormones.” 

“Go ahead and share,” he encourages. 

“Cassiopeia,” she says, and their daughter’s eyes flutter open as in recognition. 

“I think she likes it,” Dmitry says, clear blue eyes staring at him. 

“What do you think of it?” She asks him. “I know it’s such a big name, and I know what it’s like to grow up with such a name like that but…” 

Dmitry leans forward to kiss her temple. “I would love to have a daughter named after the stars.” 

“What do you think?” Anya asks the baby, who just gulps air in response. “I just been looking at those stars every night this month, and it just feels right.” 

“Cassiopeia Alice Sudayev,” Dmitry says, and Anya allows him to transfer their child to him. “It’s a good thing your brother chose a short middle name.” 

“Cassie for short,” Anya says, rubbing the circulation back into her arms. 

Cassie lets out a sigh once she’s in her father’s arms, “Cassie. She looks like a Cassie.” Actually she looked quite a bit like Anya, which is how he always imagined a daughter of theirs would look. 

Now that this is done, Anya just looks tired...which is about right after the day she’s had. 

“Should we call Andy back and let him know?” Anya asks, reaching over so her hand is placed on Cassie’s stomach. 

“He’s probably asleep,” Dmitry tells her. It was close to his bedtime when he called to let him know his sister had been born and to say hello to his mother. “We can surprise him when we get home.” 

Anya smiles softly at that, “Sounds good. Love you.” 

“Love you too,” Dmitry meets her eyes as she stifles a yawn. “You can sleep, if you want.” 

Cassie is tugging at her mittens. 

“Just want to look at her some more,” Anya tells him. “And you’re seeing Andy tomorrow?”

“Yes we have breakfast planned,” Dmitry tells her. “I just have to email my students to cancel classes this week.” 

“Dr. Sudayev,” she lets out a small laugh. “You go do that, I can take her back.” 

Anya holds out her arms, Dmitry transfers Cassie back to her. 

“I see how it is,” he says, kissing her before releasing his hold. “I’ll be right back.” 

Dmitry steps outside to compose his email and to send Lily another message just to make sure Andy is set for the night. 

His heart has never felt so full.


	18. 2007

They’re about halfway back from Homer when the rain starts. Big fat droplets falling from a clear blue sky, forming out of nowhere. Dmitry had some stuff to pick up for Vlad and Anya had volunteered and/or insisted on going along for the ride. The rain fell against the windshield as the sky darkened in an ominous way. 

“Well this came out of nowhere,” Anya says, but glances over to see Dmitry white knuckling the steering wheel. She reaches over to squeeze his thigh, “Hey.” 

“What’s wrong?” He asks, as though the muscles under her hands weren’t strung tight. The sky gives off a low rumbling noise. 

She moves her hand up to press against his cheek, “We should pull over.” 

“We are almost home,” Dmitry says, though there’s still a good twenty minutes or so before they’re home and the rain can only slow them down. 

“What’s the rush?” Anya teases, tugging gently on the ends of his hair. “Let’s just wait it out until it clears up a bit.”

The road is empty and dark, they’re the only vehicle she’s seen on the road since they left Homer. 

Dmitry lets out a shaky laugh, “Did you really say ‘what’s the rush’?” 

“So uncharacteristic of me,” Anya agrees, “So that means you should definitely listen to me.”

“Would you feel more comfortable if I did?” He asks. And she nods her head because she knows the way he processes stuff is through others needs first. 

He pulls off to the side of the road, cutting the engine, leaving the headlights and radio on. He’s got The Format’s first cd playing. The current song playing matches the atmosphere outside. 

The sky lights up in a flash. 

“This did come out of nowhere,” he says, agreeing with her earlier statement. 

Dmitry moves his hand up to hold hers. 

Last year, when they first got together she thought there’d be a before and after. A time when they were best friends and then the time they were a couple. But it’s all overlapping and she doesn’t remember a time when she didn’t feel this connection with him. 

“It’s good to get out of Fox River sometimes,” she speaks up, pulling his attention away from the sky. 

“You sound like your sisters,” he says, his tone is light. 

“They wouldn’t be content just getting out to Homer,” Anya says. “They want the entire world.” 

“And what do you want?” 

Sometimes it feels like she already has everything she could ever want. 

“Pull your seat back,” she tells him. “I want to sit with you.” 

She’s not good with comfort unless it’s tactile. Anya isn’t good with words, she’s more careless with them than she’s not but she can communicate with her body. 

Dmitry looks like he’s set to argue with her, a reflex really, but another clap of thunder followed closely by lightning has him pulling the seat back. 

Anya pulls her buckle off and he does the same as she folds herself on his lap, her hand presses against his heart. A fast thump against her palm. 

“Lucky you’re so small,” Dmitry murmurs into her hair. 

“Made just for you,” she replies, and she thinks she believes it. 

Anya tilts her face up, to pull him down for a kiss. If nothing else, their mouths were made for the other. Anticipating the others move, opening the moment they need to. 

He sighs into her mouth, and she can feel him relax underneath her. Emboldened by this, she shifts on his lap, moving to bracket his legs with hers. Pushing her hips down towards his. 

His hands cup her face, keeping her close even as she pulls away. “This your way of trying to distract me?” 

She meant to distract him, even if her original method had not been this. But since they were here… “Is it working?” 

“I’m always distracted by you,” he tells her, his hands pressed under her shirt against her lower back. 

Anya’s nose nuzzles against his, “Good thing we didn’t go to school together.” 

“Never would’ve gotten into college,” Dmitry tells her, and he lets her go so she can tug his shirt up and off him. “Would probably be in my second senior year.”

She likes the power he gives her in these rhetorical moments. 

“Had to keep you with me somehow,” Anya teases, and then yelps as his fingers tickle against her sides. 

“I’m yours,” he tells her and she has to duck her head because sometimes she feels too young and overwhelmed to deal with his sincerity. 

The sound of her heart beating in her ears overwhelming the sound of the rain hitting the truck. 

Dmitry reaches over and helps her work the button of her shorts. It takes a bit of creative shimmying to get her shorts and underwear off. 

He slides a finger into her, his thumb brushing against her clit. She bites her lower lip as she rocks against his hand. 

His other hand is in her hand, tipping her head up to kiss her neck. 

“You’re really beautiful,” he breathes against her skin. 

“Please, you haven’t even gotten my shirt off yet,” Anya jokes.

“Anya,” he admonishes her and she opens her eyes. 

She’s not certain if the pull she feels in her abdomen is from the work his fingers are currently doing or the way he’s looking at her. 

Anya sets her hands on his shoulders, fingers curling against muscle as she braces herself. 

“Not as beautiful as you,” she replies, and she means it. She doesn’t think she could ever meet anyone as beautiful as Dmitry is on the inside. 

He doesn’t respond, just kisses her as he makes her fall apart, swallowing the sounds she makes, drowning out the storm outside. At this point it’s more than half forgotten by them. As though the intention to pull over on the side of the road for this and this alone. 

“Thank you,” she says, as his lips land against her chin. She likes the way his skin flushes whenever she compliments him in this way. 

Her hands work the button to his jeans, shoving them down with more force than required, earning a laugh from him. 

“Love you,” he responds, and it makes her heart swell every time she hears it even though it’s been a few months of the words being exchanged between them. 

The urge to make a joke about him saying that due to the proximity of her hand to his dick, but she lets the urge pass. 

Instead she just sinks onto him, his fingers digging into her hips as he pulls her closer. She adjusts her angle, taking him in deeper. 

Dmitry pulls open the buttons on her blouse, lowering his mouth down to her breast. She makes a whining noise, because she can feel him everywhere but it still doesn’t feel like enough. 

She drags his mouth back up to hers, his fingers moving to press against her spine. Protecting both against the steering wheel she’s hit a few times now. 

Anya continues to move her hips against his even as she falls apart again, urging him on. He comes shortly after, and she clings to his neck, not wanting to lose the closeness already. 

“Love you too,” she returns, kissing his forehead, his cheek, his chin. 

He shifts her on his lap, and pulls her legs up over it, as she wedges between him and the center console. 

“Hey,” he says, his palm against the cheek. “When did the storm stop?” 

She looks outside the window, wiping away some of the fog to see the sky clear again outside. 

“Wow,” she says, “The power I have.” 

Dmitry kisses her cheek, and doesn’t try to move from their current, uncomfortable position. “So powerful.” 

“Hey,” she says, her fingers reaching up to play in his hair, and because she didn’t ask him before, “What do you want?” 

“The moon and the stars,” he responds without hesitation. 

She lets out a small laugh, “Is that all?” 

“Yes,” he tells her, his grip around her sure, and his lips against her hair, “I already got the sun.”


	19. 2016

“You’ve lived here nearly nine months,” Anya comments, waiting through the storage of the room that’s too small to be a second bedroom but was definitely marketed as such. “And you haven’t unpacked everything yet?”

Dmitry’s in the living room and calls back, “Don’t you remember my boxes back at Lily and Vlad’s?” 

She smiles fondly in remembrance. She’s not certain what she expected when she moved to New York, so close in proximity to Dmitry. She half expected this sharp pain of regret and guilt she’s carried around with her for half a decade to follow her from Paris, but it feels something more akin to their old friendship. 

The one they had long before they ever dated. That particular tension is there as well, but she’s trying hard not to fall into old habits for the sake of falling into them. 

She opens a flap on a box on top as she can hear Dmitry admonish Marmalade for something in the other room. 

She recognizes the cover of an old notebook. Even older than the ones she found at the house back in Alaska. She can remember every memory attached to buying these. 

She finds the starry night one she got years ago back in London with her family. She still doesn’t know if she should be touched or concerned that he holds onto these things but collecting notebooks has always been their thing. Individually and together. 

Anya picks it up to see whatever ones are hidden beneath. She finds one, flipped open to a page instead of closed like the others. Dmitry’s familiar scrawl against the aging paper. 

She sees her name and her hands move to pick it up to read it before she can think about what she’s doing. The date is 2011, nearly one year after she left. The page is nearly illegible, half the words crossed out in fat scribbles. 

She should not be reading this, but facing what she did when she left, what she did to Dmitry, and what she left behind is not something ever feels like she’s ever fully done. 

Even dodging her divorce paper for five years, his coldness when she showed up out of nowhere, and she still feels he let her off too easily. 

Or perhaps it’s just because his reaction to her showing up in Alaska after abandoning him and her life there five years later is nothing compared to her aunts’ reactions to her showing back in Paris after about a week away and ending her engagement. 

She reads unfinished thoughts. Paragraphs that end abruptly, the last word not even being finished written. They spread out between the first three years of her being gone. And then they stop, somewhere along the time of Vlad’s death. 

For as young as she was when she lost her family, when she got married, sometimes she forgets how young he was too. Dmitry always felt too solid to be her age, so sturdy and mature. 

When she was 17, Anya was brave and bold and unafraid of anything. She felt adult in her recklessness and in her choices. When she’s 18 and loses everyone, she slides into immaturity and some days can’t get out of bed without help. 

She can see now, her brash youthful behavior was immature, and the years after the tragedy as illness. She’s on solid ground as she’s older, or so she feels like it most days, but she’s never fully appreciated that Dmitry’s curve started much earlier. Losing both his parents before he even hit his teens. 

The words he writes sometimes are pleading, sometimes angry and some are just nostalgia. But she reaches an entry where there’s just one simple sentence that absolutely breaks her. 

She finds herself sitting on a floor in an apartment in Brooklyn belonging to her childhood best friend and ex-husband and crying over all the ways his head has broken because of her over the years. 

Anya doesn’t know if she belongs in this apartment or his life still, if she’s earned it or needs to earn it. Or if they should break free of each other completely. 

It feels selfish to hold onto Dmitry. 

“Hey I was going to order…” Dmitry steps into the room, his phone in his hand, and stops as he sees her. “Hey, what’s wrong?” 

“I’m sorry,” she says, and she’s not certain if she’s apologizing for the past or her current state. 

Either way, he squats down beside her, warm hand on her shoulder. Familiar and comforting. 

“Are you okay?” He looks down and sees several open notebooks scattered around her on the floor. “Ah, I see.” 

“I should’ve called once I was in Paris,” she tells him, and she resists the urge to be pulled into his embrace. 

“Maybe,” he agrees, his hand moving up to cup her cheek. As though she’s still something as precious to be held by him as she was at 17. “We both could’ve done a lot of things differently. But we can only move forward now.” 

“Is that therapy talk?” She asks as he picks the notebooks back up, placing back in the box. 

“A little bit,” he admits. “You weren’t ever meant to read those, Anya.” 

“Maybe I should’ve,” she says, pulling her knees up to her chin. She wonders what she would’ve done, back when she was 20 or 21, and confronted with the wreckage she left behind. 

“No, those were just exercises in trying to express myself,” he tells her. “None of them are finished because I couldn’t bring myself to truly be angry at you. Upset, hurt, sure but I did understand on some level why you left.”

There’s a desperate ache in her that wished she had stayed, wishes the two of them had healed together. But she couldn’t have healed in Alaska, stunted by her own memories. 

“Maybe the two of us are just a bad idea in any form,” she says softly. Because they’re not together. Haven’t been since that week in Alaska when she sought the divorce. Not that was truly together. Haven’t been a couple since the night she fled and maybe, if she’s honest, before then. 

“Anya, you can’t put too much stock in half finished thoughts in letters I was pushed into writing by a therapist,” Dmitry tells her. “You weren’t the only thing I had suppressed feeling about in my early twenties. You were just the easiest one to project it all on.” 

“I’m sorry,” she repeats, like a broken record. And she is. She hates that she’s here, upset and atoning for things when all she wants to do again is run away. 

“I forgive you,” he says, and she believes him. Dmitry would forgive her everything, and it’s the one thing she can’t bring herself to forgive herself for. “Do you want dinner?” 

Anya wants to stay more than anything, wants to fold herself into his embrace and wants to remember the feeling of truly being loved. 

Instead, she chooses, “I think I need some sleep, actually.” 

Hazel eyes that know her to well study her for a moment, but Dmitry nods, standing up and helps pull her up as well. 

“See you later?” He asks. 

“Yes,” she says but she’s not certain if she means it. 

Anya goes back to her apartment, the window to his always catching in her peripheral view. She dodges him for a week, unable to sort her own emotions. Then realizes this is a bad habit to fall into, running away when things feel hard. This is regression, not progression. 

So she knocks on his door a week later, and she can’t tell if he seems surprised to see her or not. She hands him a notebook, thin and with the Statue of Liberty wearing sunglasses on the front. 

“This is the worst notebook I could find,” she tells him as he takes it from her. 

He smiles at her as though she’s handed him a painting that was hanging in the Louvre instead of a cheap tourist souvenir. 

Some old habits, with the right updates, are worth keeping around after all.


	20. December 2020

Three days already feels weirdly like a lifetime. Anya can’t remember a world when her daughter wasn’t in it, things changed so quickly and drastically the moment Cassie was placed in her arms. It’s been a bubble life, she hasn’t seen beyond the hospital walls. Hasn’t seen anyone outside of hospital staff, Dmitry and Cassie since this change. 

Now they’re pulling into Lily’s driveway. There’s a dusting of snow covering the ground. She’s suddenly terrified of all the other changes about to take place. Mostly she’s afraid of Andy’s reaction, despite all the conversations and reassuring they’ve been doing the past few months. 

She waits in the passenger seat as Dmitry pulls the car seat up, tucking the blanket tight around their daughter and grabbing the bag to hoist over his shoulder. 

Dmitry goes around to the other side of the car, opening the door to help her get out. She feels better than she imagined she would after pushing a six and a half pound human being out of her body. But she’s still tired, weak and sore. 

“Andy’s okay,” Dmitry tells her, unprompted. Always so able to read her mind. “We just had breakfast together this morning. He’s excited to see you, and even a little excited to meet his baby sister.”

“I know,” Anya says, and he leans in to kiss her softly. She reaches over to brush her knuckle over Cassie’s cheek. “I don’t deal well with change is all.”

“I’m well aware,” Dmitry teases as Anya adjusts the cap on Cassie’s head as the snow begins to fall again. “Cassie’s first Alaskan snow.” 

It’s enough to make her eyes well up with tears. 

“I didn’t even think of that,” she says. “It’s so weird to have a baby, and even weirder to have so many firsts take place in Fox River.” 

“Let’s get inside before we have a baby snowman,” Dmitry tells her and she nods. 

Dmitry pulls the door open, holding it for her to walk through. She’s wearing his parka, her New York City peacoat not working as well in the creeping winter weather. 

Anya steps into the foyer, shedding the jacket when she hears little feet run across the room. She spies a flash of blond hair. 

“Mom!” Andy cries as he wraps his arms around her legs. “I missed you.” 

She places her hand on top of his head, too stunned to react at first. He’s never said that word before. Never called her mom, never called Dmitry dad. She looks over her shoulder to see Dmitry frozen, the door only half closed. 

“Andy,” she responds, but it comes out choked. Even without the hormonal overload of having recently given birth, she wouldn’t be able to stop the sob that erupts from her. She awkwardly goes down to stand on her knees, bending as much as she can currently manage without tearing out stitching. She pulls her son into her arms to give him a hug. “I missed you so much. I love you, buddy.” 

The door shuts softly behind her. 

Andy raises up on his tip toes, peering behind her. “Is that your baby?”

Anya pulls back, cupping his face in her hands and giving him a kiss on his forehead that he quickly wipes off. “You ready to meet your little sister?” 

“I guess,” Andy says, wriggling out of her grasp. Completely oblivious to the impact he just had on her. 

Dmitry sets down the bag to offer his hand to help pull Anya back up. Her entire body groans in response to her decision to get close to the floor to hug Andy, but she had been physically incapable of not hugging him at that moment. 

“This is your sister, Cassiopeia Alice Sudayev,” Dmitry tells him, turning the car seat so Andy can see her. “Cassie, this is your big brother Andy.” 

“She’s so tiny,” Andy breathes in wonderment. “Is she supposed to be that small?” 

Anya laughs, holding her side. “Yes, she’s only three days old. She’ll get bigger soon.”

“Can I see her?” Andy asks. 

“Of course,” Dmitry answers, “But do me a favor, go wash your hands first.” 

Andy agrees, running to the nearby bathroom to wash his hands. 

Dmitry helps Anya sit on the sofa, rearranging the pillows around her. 

She tilts her head up to look at him, “He called me Mom.” 

Dmitry’s grin is as big as it was the first time they placed Cassie in his arms, “I heard.” 

“Did you know he was going to do that?” 

“No,” he says, setting the car seat down to pull Cassie up out of her seat. “I was Dmitry this morning, and he asked me what time Anya was coming home.”

Now came an entirely new fear. “Do you think it was a fluke? What if he didn’t mean to call me Mom?” 

“Andy adores you,” Dmitry reminds her, as Cassie lets out a content gurgle, happy now she’s in her father’s arms. “No matter what he calls you.” 

“I know,” she says softly. “It’s just between the three of you I don’t know how much more love my heart can handle but you all keep finding new ways to make it expand. I know it doesn’t matter in the scope of things if he only calls me Anya, but hearing him call me Mom…” 

Dmitry moves Cassie over to his shoulder, his hand steady against their daughter’s back. He reaches over with his other hand to brush Anya’s tears away with his thumb. “It’s okay to want things, Anyok.” 

“I feel greedy trying to ask for more than I already have,” she admits as the bathroom sink turns off. “I have more than I ever dreamed of.” 

“Me too,” he says as Andy comes bounding in. “Sit next to your mother.” 

Andy obediently sits next to his mother, and Anya reaches over to prop his elbow on the pillow next to her. 

“Remember how we practiced the past couple days?” Dmitry asks him. And Anya can only imagine Dmitry and Andy pretending how to hold a baby. 

Andy nods and gets his arms in the proper format, “I remember.”

“If you don’t feel like you can hold her up, tell me and your mother immediately,” Dmitry reminds him as he transfers Cassie over to her brother’s arms. 

Her little cap falls to the wayside, one of her mittens half off her hand. Dmitry’s hand still hovers close to both his children, but Andy’s doing really well. 

“They gave you a big name,” he comments to his sister. “But I gave you your middle name.” 

He’s very proud of that fact. 

Cassie lets out a yawn in response, pushing her fists out to the sides. 

“She looks like Mom,” Andy comments, as Cassie grasps his shirt with her pinky finger. 

Anya has another lump in her throat. “And her brother.” 

“I guess,” he says, still not emotionally as affected as she is. “My arms are tired.” 

“You did real good,” Dmitry says, shifting Cassie back into his arms. 

Cassie is surprisingly calm for the amount she’s being passed around. 

“You should go find Lily, let her know it’s her time to come see her newest grandchild,” Anya tells him. 

She can only imagine how much Lily is currently holding back, letting the three of them have their moment with Andy first. 

Dmitry bends down to kiss her lips and the top of Andy’s head. 

“That’s a good idea,” he agrees. 

“She’s in the kitchen,” Andy offers, helpfully. 

Dmitry pivots, heading in that direction. 

Andy stands up on the sofa, throwing his arms around Anya. She awkwardly wraps an arm around him, wishing she could pull him onto her lap. “You don’t have to go back, do you?” 

“No,” she promises him. “Home for the long haul. I missed you.” 

“Missed you,” he echoes. “The baby looks okay.” 

“Thank you,” she says. “I’m going to need your help now that we’re home with taking care of her.” 

“I’m five,” Andy is quick to remind her. 

“I know,” Anya says, though she doesn’t want to think how close they are to him being six. “But you’re her big brother so we are going to need you.” 

“To do what?” 

“Well, for starters,” Anya tells him. “You know how you help read me stories to sleep?” Andy nods. “She’s going to need you to do that for her too.” 

“I can do that,” he says and she smiles at him. 

“Thank you,” Anya tells him. “I love you.” 

“Love you too,” Andy says, tucking his face against her neck. 

She’s never been so happy to be back home.


	21. 2017

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> congrats to cat!!!!!

Dmitry has barely walked in the door when Anya is on him, her legs around his waist, and her lips on his. He laughs against her mouth at the greeting. 

“Congratulations,” she says, when she pulls away. 

“I haven’t told you if I passed yet,” he tells her, amused. 

Anya kisses him again, “Don’t have to, I already know you did.”

“Luckily, you are right,” he says, and she shouts, as he spins her around. 

“Doctor Sudayev,” she tries it out, pressing her tongue against her lower lip. “That sounds really hot.” 

“Contain yourself,” Dmitry warns, though he rests her against the wall, and kisses her again. “We’ve been invited out to celebrate.” 

“Celebrate you?” Anya asks. “My favorite thing to do.”

“Weird,” he says, placing a kiss against her neck. “My favorite thing to do is celebrate you.” 

“Stop,” she says. And then when he stops kissing her neck. “No, don’t stop that. I meant, stop this is about you.” 

Dmitry laughs again, “I love you.” 

“You know who else would be proud of you?” Anya asks, her arms still looped around his neck, her fingers playing with the ends of his hair there. 

It’s grown long in the last few weeks of exams. 

Dmitry recognizes there are several answers to this. Vlad, of course. He’d always been the one shoving college brochures in his face throughout high school. His father, who had dreamed big for him even back when Dmitry was very small. His mother, even though his memories of her were more like impressions than anything he could actually remember with her in it. 

He humors her anyway, “Who?” 

“Olga,” she answers, a wistful smile on her face. “She would be very proud of you.” 

He makes a noise in disagreement, “Dr Olga? She’d be walking around complaining that it’s only a doctorate and we shouldn’t be calling me a doctor at all.” 

“Only because the two of you were so competitive,” Anya argues. “But she’d be very proud of what you’ve accomplished academically.”

Dmitry swallows against the lump in his throat, thinking about old friends, and their friendly rivalries. 

“Thank you.”

She brushes her thumb against his cheek. “What’re you gonna do with that doctorate of yours?” 

“Be an adjunct professor at a technical college,” he responds, even though she already knows that. 

“Hot,” Anya teases, and pulls his mouth against hers again. “What time do we have to be at your celebration thing?” 

Dmitry moves his arm so he can see the watch on his wrist. “About forty five minutes.” 

She tightens her grip that her legs have around his waist, “Do you think we have enough time to celebrate our own way before?” 

“No, not enough time,” he says, though his hand has found his way under her dress to grip her bare thigh. 

She kisses him long and deep, “Good thing our friends are used to us showing up late.” 

A very good thing indeed.


	22. 2016

It’s late when they leave the bar, Dmitry walks the extra space to Anya’s apartment building, seeing her home safely. They stumble up the stairs, trying to keep their laughter at a quiet level. 

When they reach her door, Dmitry ducks down to kiss her, only to remember a delayed moment later they don’t do that. Or aren’t supposed to. Or aren’t yet. He’s not certain what the rules are here in this new city. He maneuvers and ends up kissing the tip of her nose instead. 

“Good night,” he says. 

She tilts her head up and it’s a series of past moments all in one space. He thinks of all their near kisses from a lifetime before. And all the repeating and rhyming history they have. And how he’d live a hundred lifetimes of repeating the cycle of falling in love with this woman and be content. 

Anya tugs on his sleeve, “Stay with me tonight?”

They were tipsy and hazy and it’s hard to keep barriers up in these states. 

“Don’t think it’s a good idea,” because Dmitry is trying hard these days to not give into bad ones. 

It’s like a series of tests they’ve been putting themselves through before allowing the unnamed inevitable to take over. 

“You’ve spent the night before,” she reminds him. “I don’t like waking up hungover in a strange city.”

“You’ve lived here for a month,” he reminds her but makes no move to leave. “Shouldn’t be so strange anymore.” 

“Fine,” she sighs. “I just need to wake up to the smell of lemon herb salmon toast and can’t wait the time it would take to drag myself over to your apartment.”

Dmitry laughs, “Do you even have the ingredients for such a thing here?”

She nods, playing with the edge of his father’s coat. “Bought them all myself.”

“I see,” he says, taking the keys from her hand to open her door. “This was premeditated.” 

“Knew we’d get drunk together sooner or later,” she says, holding onto the back of his coat to follow him into her apartment. “Wanted to be prepared.” 

Dmitry shrugs off his coat as she pushes off her heels. It’s an updated version of an old routine of theirs from back when they were married. 

Some habits were unbreakable when they were together. 

He drops down onto her couch. Dedicated to sticking to their lines in any way he could. 

Anya looks ready to say something but instead yawns, and drops a kiss on his forehead. 

“Night Dima.” 

“Night Anyok,” he returns, squeezing her hand before she slips away. 

Dmitry awakes to find her tucked between the back of the sofa and him, her face hidden against his chest, his hand already in her hair. 

He slides off the sofa, trying not to disturb her as he gets up. He pads out to the kitchen and opens the fridge to find a drawer labeled with his name on it. 

He smiles as he takes out the supplies she left him.


	23. December 2020

After giving birth and returning home, Anya finds it easier the first few nights to sleep on the sofa at Lily’s rather than to make her way up all the way to their current attic bedroom. Dmitry’s brought her a few pillows to put under her back and neck to keep her at a better angle. Cassie’s bassinet is moved to the living room and Dmitry inflates an air mattress in front of the sofa to sleep on so they don’t have to sleep apart. 

It also prevents her from being able to get up and get to Cassie when she awakens in the night, he insists on getting up and tending to her or bringing her to Anya for tending. 

Watching Dmitry become a father has been a sweet experience ever since they first started fostering and even more so since Andy and now Cassie. 

Their daughter is only days open, but looks like her father put the stars in the sky of the constellation she’s named after himself. 

The second night home, she’s drowsy with sleep, an identical expression on Cassie’s face, where she’s tucked into Anya’s arm. Dmitry already has an arm thrown over his eyes, he spent the better part of the early morning with Cassie, and she didn’t realize it until later so he’s crashed earlier than he normally would. 

She must have dozed off, because she doesn’t hear the footsteps before she hears the soft, “Mom?”

It’s only been about two days of him calling her that, and Anya’s heart swells. “What’s wrong, Andy?”

“Everyone‘s but me is sleepin out here,” he tells her, rubbing at his eyes. 

She reaches out with her free hand, brushing away his bangs from his forehead, “You wanna sleep out here with us too?” 

Andy nods, “Can I?” 

“Yes,” she responds, and Cassie lets out a yawn. “You’ll have to sleep with your father though, there’s not enough room up here.” 

Dmitry lifts an arm up, and grasps Andy’s hand and she wonders at what point he woke up or if he’s been awake this whole time. “Come here, bud.”

Andy curls up next to his father much like he had almost two years earlier how far they’ve come.

“Thought you were sleeping,” Anya whispers to Dmitry, adjusting Cassie, who seems alert to the fact her father is awake and starts fussing. 

“Nah,” Dmitry says, his hand reaching up blindly to the couch and she grasps a hold of it. “Just resting my eyes.”

“Should’ve woken me up to help with Cass this morning,” Anya chides him. 

“Anyok, you just pushed her out of her body less than a week ago,” Dmitry points out, squeezing her hand. “You should rest.” 

“Thought the whole doctor thing was for a doctorate,” she teases, “Not being a medical doctor.”

Andy murmurs in his sleep and Dmitry wraps an arm around him, his other hand solid against his back. 

“Don’t need to be a medical doctor to see the sense in it,” Dmitry replies. She wrinkles her nose. “How you feelin?” 

“Sore and tired still,” she says with a small smile. “But God, Dima, this is the happiest I’ve ever been. Didn’t think I knew how to feel the pure feeling anymore.” 

Anya doesn’t even know if she knows how to explain it properly but he’s never been one to be offended by complex feelings. She’s not even certain if it’s what she should be feeling with the state of the world but here she is. 

“I know what you mean,” Dmitry responds. “Let’s try to make it so they never forget.” 

She kisses Cassie on top of the head, where her little purple cap has fallen off. Seems like an a big order to fill with so many years ahead of them but she’d die trying to make sure that happens for both her children. 

As though sensing her thoughts, Cassie let’s out a big sigh, her eyes fluttering shut. Anya allows herself to do the same, slipping into sleep with Dmitry’s hand still in hers.


	24. 2006: August

It’s a long series of days visiting colleges. It’s the week before school begins again, and Dmitry isn’t certain how he feels about the additional stress of considering college as a great way to begin his school year. Though, as Vlad reminds him, deadlines are looming. 

Vlad and Lily keeps asking him what he thinks and feels about each school they go to on the Pacific Northwest, staying with old friends and family of Lily’s and the only thing he can think of is they’re fine but they’re all just so so. 

There’s an anxiety about leaving Alaska that roots under his feet and he can’t name. 

They get back a day early, canceling the last trip due to an incoming storm, and not wanting to get stuck extra days. 

He gets out of the car and heads towards the Romanovs’, ignoring Vlad’s question if he maybe wants to unpack first. He follows the familiar shortcut, and knocks on the door to be greeted by his second favorite Romanov sister. 

Maria blinks when she sees him, “Thought you were gone one more day, Mitya?” 

Dmitry shrugs it off, not wanting to analyze too deeply why he’s felt caged in when away, and the void in his chest. “Storm stopped us. How are you?” 

“Oh you with the small talk,” she playfully slaps his chest with the back of her hand, stepping out on the porch with him. “Nastya’s been keeping busy, went off to the Zboroskys for the day.” 

“Katya?” He asks. 

Maria smirks, “Viktor, why - you jealous?” 

Dmitry shrugs it off, though it is an uncomfortable feeling to think of the family friend Anya had appreciated when they were younger. “She still on that? Thought he was for you?” 

“One day,” Maria waves it off, “Want to give my parents at least one good heart attack about who I’m dating before I try dating someone they’d want me to.” 

“You rebel,” Dmitry teases and looks around. “Did...you want to hang out?” 

Maria shoves at him, towards the front steps. “Go home and unpack, you’re useless since you got all moon eyed over my sister.” 

Dmitry’s not certain if he should be offended. “What makes you think I haven’t unpacked?” 

“You’re both entirely codependent,” Maria sighs. “I’ll let her know when she gets back from her other boyfriend’s that you’re home.”

“Not funny,” he calls back to her as he heads back down the path and he can hear her laughter as she shuts the door behind her. 

Deflated, he missed Anya with an ache he didn’t know he could have. He always missed her when they were separated as friends but now it’s turned into an open wound. 

He sneaks back in the back way, hoping to avoid a lecture from Vlad. He grabs his luggage that was left outside his room and hauls it in, only to notice the lump of his mattress. 

Dmitry rugs on his comforter, til he can see Anya, in a pair of leggings and one of his shirts, her hair in a messy ponytail. She grabs his comforter and attempts to pull it back over her head. 

“No,” she protests as he drops it and crawls onto the mattress to hover over her. “You took too long and now I want to sleep. Where have you been, I heard Vlad and Lily come home hours ago.” 

“We haven’t even been back an hour,” Dmitry points out. “And I went to see you, dummy.” 

“Always knew you’d be romantic as a boyfriend,” she retorts, her tongue pressed between her teeth. “You’re back early.” 

“I know,” he says and she slides her hands behind his shoulder blades to hug him to her. He drops a kiss on her lips. “Maria said you were at Viktor’s.” 

That makes Anya laugh, “Told her not to ruin my surprise if she happened to see you.” She looks up at him from under her lashes. “Were you jealous?” 

“What sort of games are you girls trying to play on me?” Dmitry evades answering the question, as he’s not quite certain if he was or not. Or, rather, if he wants to admit to if he was or not. 

“Poor Dima,” she murmurs, and kisses his chin. “You’re the only one for me right now. Did get lunch earlier with Kat and Vik though.” 

Dmitry tickles her sides, “What’s this right now businesses?” 

Anya laughs and grasps a hold of his fingers to move them away from the ticklish spot on her rib cage. “For one, you’ve been home this entire time and have yet to give me a proper greeting.” 

“My apologies,” Dmitry tells her, and dips down to kiss her. Her fingers twist in his shirt, keeping him there. He moves his lips down her neck. “I missed you.” 

“Good,” she sighs, directing his mouth back to her. “You’re supposed to miss me.” 

Dmitry rolls over, pulling her with him so she’s stretched out on top of him. “And?” 

Anya shrugs, resting her head against his shoulder. “And lunch was very good. We went to the Italian place a couple towns over.” 

Dmitry wraps his arms around her, enjoying the familiar comfort of her weight on him. “You’re impossible.” 

“That’s something my family says,” she responds. “Next time you leave, you’re taking me with you.” 

“Why is that?” 

She pouts against his shoulder. “I get bored and my family won’t entertain me.” 

“Thought you had Viktor for that?” 

Anya pokes him in the side and tilts her head up to look at him, “Because I missed you, you ass.” 

That makes Dmitry smile, and her scowl disappears and she smiles back at him. 

It’s really good to be back home.


	25. 2017

Back when they were married, Anya had taken up learning to cook with a fervor. She’d never been helpless in the kitchen- she could make pasta and follow boxes instructions and do a few other things but nothing that would impress anyone. (Except Dmitry, he had always been so easily impressed by her.) 

She’s not certain if it’s because she was play acting the role of wife and just following the steps the media had set forth for her, or if it was a distraction and an obsession to get just one thing right or if she just wanted a new label to identify herself with instead of survivor and orphan. 

Nothing she had made when they were married had been all that spectacular. Dmitry was a natural cook, could throw together random ingredients like they were on an episode of Chopped and come out with something gourmet. 

The first few months in Paris, she was so lonely and depressed and lost, she’s stumble into her grandmother’s kitchen and snack, and eventually Nonna’s chef took pity on her and would show her how to make a few things. 

Anya doesn’t want to analyze her eagerness to show off this skill for Dmitry. There’s a part of her that still feels like an over eager child, pointing at herself and yelling ‘see, see I am a functional human being’. Her inner dialogue sometimes is enough to cause a migraine. 

Tonight though, the sun is still out, even as it is low in the sky, and Dmitry is running late from work- helping her remind her that he has flaws. She needs to be disappointed by him a little bit every once and awhile to keep her own chaos at bay. 

He arrives, an apology ready and a kiss placed to her cheek and she has to blink away the domesticity of it all. 

“You’re insane to be friends with your ex,” her friend, Julia, has told her the night she discovered Dmitry and Anya weren’t just neighbors. “Especially an ex like that.” 

“He’s always been my friend,” Anya had countered, even though the claim hadn’t fit quite right and ignored all the other implications in what her friend was saying. 

They exchange brief stories of work, and Dmitry tells anecdotes about Marmie, and she sips wine and tries to ignore the warmth in her chest. 

It’s not until they’re loading dishes into the dishwasher (well, Dmitry is- he insisted) that the sky erupts abruptly into a storm. Shards of rain falling from the sky as though someone had accidentally leaned on a lever. 

He glances over at the window, where the curtains are pulled back, giving them a nice view of the building next door. “Well, then.” 

Anya walks over, pulling the curtains shut. “Don’t remember seeing that in the forecast.” 

“I’ll just need to pull my jacket over my head to run back home,” he says, but flinches when a roll of thunder starts. 

Well, this is no good. 

Anya walks over to where he’s facing the counter. White knuckles gripping the edge, but face very much attempting to be relaxed from what she can see in profile. He tended as she wraps her arms around him, her cheek pressed between his shoulder blades. 

He feels more like home than any location ever has, but she’s not focusing on that right now. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Dima,” she says. “You can wait out the storm here.”

She can feel his hesitation, can understand his hesitation. There’s a history behind them, and an even more recent one of near kisses, mouths against skin, drunken hugs and casually intertwined hands. 

They’ve never been able to do a hands off friendship. 

She tightens her grip on him, and he places his arms over hers. 

“Until the rain lets down,” he compromises, and turns so he can pull her against him in a hug. His heart beats wildly and loudly against her ear, but she’s not certain if it’s her own heart she’s hearing. 

He’s the first to let go this time, gently moving her back so he can step away from the counter. 

Anya’s stomach knots, “Movie, I guess?” 

Dmitry nods, sitting down on her sofa, his arms stretched along the back of it as he turns her television on. She tucks into the space next to him that’s always been molded for her. 

They’re avoiding a conversation they should be having. An inability to move forward. She’s aware enough to know she can’t have anyone in her life in a romantic capacity with her and Dmitry being like this, but she doesn’t know how to be anything else. 

He keeps his hand resting on the back of the sofa, and she resists the urge to rest her head on his shoulder. There’s a loud enough clap of thunder that the movie can’t muffle and she brings her hand up to squeeze the one on the sofa cushion and his arm is around her shoulder. 

It’s a dance without steps, she was born knowing these motions. 

The sky rumbles again, and a flash of light before everything goes dark. 

Anya turns her head, much like she did a half of a lifetime ago, and she means to ask how he is but his mouth is on her and it’s akin to a breath of relief to have their lips touch again. 

It reminds her thunderstorms in attics, on empty roads, the Alaskan wilderness surrounding them. This was always the only way she knew how to fix this particular issue, his skin beneath her hands as though she could absorb his trauma and take it from him. 

She knows for a fact now he’d do the same for her. 

There’s a hum as the television comes back on, the lights in the other room flickering on, but now they’re as much background noise as the storm is. 

It’s so much softer than their frustrated joining back in Alaska. Taking their punishments out on each other, mostly with the knowledge of how well they know the other and their body. 

They part, an unspoken question and response given in a shared breath, and he’s hoisting her up off the sofa, and they stumble their way into her bedroom. The first place she ever truly lived on her own, and it doesn’t feel trespassed on to bring Dmitry in, the space adapting to his presence. 

And when he lays her down on her bed every touch feed more like a vow than the ones they had made back when she was eighteen.


	26. 2020

It takes a good half an hour to recover in the parking lot before they’re able to leave. It’s just so much relief and job and anxiety and everything at once. There’s a photograph of tangible proof of the life they’ve created and a test that cleared them of their biggest worry. 

It’s clutches in Anya’s hand while Dmitry’s hands are tangled in their hand and most of this time in the parking lot they’ve been making out like teenagers who hadn’t seen each other in weeks. The feeling is similar to when Anya and her family would leave on vacations and then they were reunited but also so much more intense. 

“Dima,” she attempts but puts her mouth on his again, so the thought is lost for the moment. It’s going to get really embarrassing if they end up caught by hospital security. 

“Yes?” He asks and moves his mouth to her neck and she tilts her head back. 

“This,” she pants, her free hand getting tangled in his hair, dragging his mouth back to hers. “Is definitely how we ended up expecting a baby.” 

“A daughter,” he reminds her, and she smiles against his mouth. “Healthy daughter.” 

Anya lets out a half sob, half laugh and he pulls back slightly concerned. “Sorry, I’m just really happy at the moment.” She sighs and smooths out the sonogram photo she’s still clutching. “We should get home to celebrate properly.”

“Okay,” Dmitry agrees but kisses her again. She whimpers and then uses her hand to shove him away at his chest. “Why do we currently live so far away from the hospital?” 

She sighs, and reaches over to hold his hand as he finally starts Vlad’s old truck they’ve been borrowing when they need to go around town. 

The roads have hardly any traffic on them these days so it’s closer to thirty minutes instead of forty five when they get home. Dmitry unbuckles and leans over and kisses her again as she tucks the photograph into her purse. 

“We are so close to being inside,” she reminds him. 

“We are almost going to definitely get interrupted by our son or Lily when we get inside,” he points out. 

Anya considers that for a moment, “Sneak in the back way?” 

Dmitry nods in agreement before getting out of the truck and walking around to help Anya out. He lifts her up to put her on the ground. 

“Hey,” she says, her hands on his shoulders and her nose brushing his. “I really love you.” 

“Hey,” he returns and brushes his mouth against hers. “I really love you too.” 

They walk around the house, finding the side entrance that’s mostly forgotten. 

Or should be except Lily is waiting there with her arms crossed when they walk in. 

“Do you know how predictable you two are?” she asks them. “How loud that old truck is?” 

Dmitry sighs, “Where’s Andy?” 

“Down for a nap,” Lily says, not budging. “You two do realize you have a private room all the way in the attic and don’t have to keep sneaking out to fool around?” Dmitry opens his mouth to protest but Lily cuts him off before he can even start. “Anastasia, you have a hickey.” 

Anya slaps Dmitry on the arm, but then seems to make a decision because she turns on her foot to address Lily. “Actually we have something we want to talk to you about, Lily.” 

Dmitry looks over at her, wordlessly asking if she really wants to do this now, and she returns a gesture with her hand he interprets as ‘may as well’. 

“Let’s go to the living room,” Dmitry says. 

Lily frowns, looking concerned now. “You’re not going back to New York already are you? I’ve seen in the news that-“ 

“No,” Anya stops her. “We will probably be here for quite awhile.”

“I don’t like it when you children are cryptic,” Lily complains as she’s ushered into the living room. 

“You’ll change your mind,” Dmitry promises and he feels excited to tell her.

They’ve spent so much time worried and stressed about the way to tell Andy and what his reaction could potentially be, he forgot how exciting it could be to share with the other important people in their lives. 

He suddenly feels like bouncing on his toes. Anya must sense it because she reaches over and puts a settling hand on his arm. 

Today has just been a lot. 

Lily sits down on the sofa and looks up at them, waiting, “Well clearly you’re not getting divorced again so out with it.” 

Dmitry and Anya exchange a look and he steps back to allow her to share the news. 

“So you may have noticed us going out a bit more than normal,” Anya begins. 

“In the middle of a pandemic!” Lily interrupts to exclaim. 

“I know,” Anya says, reaching into her purse and pulling out the sonogram to hand to Lily. “But for a very good reason.” 

Lily frowns, squinting at the photo. She’s too vain for glasses, something he definitely can’t relate to. “What?—“ then she sees it. “Baby Girl Sudayev?” 

Dmitry nods, “We’re having a baby!”

It still takes Lily a moment to react but then she lets out a startled squeal, “A baby! Oh!” 

She jumps up, crushing Anya in a hug first and then pulling Dmitry into one. 

“What amazing news,” she gushed. “Andy- oh, Andy is going to be a big brother!” 

“Yes,” Dmitry says, unable to contain a smile. “But he doesn’t know yet. We are going to talk to him after dinner about it.” 

“I have to keep quiet about this throughout dinner?” Lily asks, still clinging to him. 

“Please,” Anya asks, and Lily leaves him to hug Anya again. 

“Oh Anastasia,” she says, “Mitya, I’m just so happy for all of you.” She releases her. “Okay, I’ll turn my back so you two can sneak off to celebrate properly.” 

Anya pries the sonogram photo out of her hands before they leave. 

Lily manages to keep the news to herself throughout dinner but does have several emotional reactions to simple requests like ‘pass the potatoes please’.


	27. 2033

Getting any sort of phone call about either of his children, always causes Dmitry’s heart to leap into his throat. He cancels the rest of his classes for the day, going over what the school administrator had said, and trying to think what could have upset Cassie so much. 

His daughter had very much inherited her mother’s bluntness, so she was rather upfront when something upset her. Or as far as he knew. 

The administrator leads him to the girls bathroom, ensuring it’s clear before letting him go in to find Cassie on the floor of the stall crying. 

She’s pale and withdrawn looking, and she looks so much like Anya he’s instantly transported to when Anya was a teenager, a handful of years older than Cassie is now, and he’s find her curled up in random spots of their house, crying and catatonic. 

He has to force himself back to the present. Cassie is fine. Whatever it is, she hasn’t experienced the same trauma her mother has. He kneels down next to her, ignoring the protests his body makes, and puts a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Cass? Cassiopeia?” 

She blinks looking over at him, as though it takes a moment to register who he is- another trait of Anya’s that makes his heart twist- before launching herself at him. 

“I’m sorry that they called you, Daddy,” she says, tucking her face against the crook of his neck. 

Dmitry keeps his balance and strokes her dark blonde hair, “I’m not sorry at all, what’s wrong?” 

Cassie pulls back and her lower lip wobbles as she tries to articulate what she’s so upset about. 

He stops her, “Okay, here’s our plan. Let’s check you out of school the rest of the day, and we can take a ride while you process what you’re going through.”

She thinks about it, and he wonders if she’s going to argue with him about missing class- with this child it’s about a 50/50 chance, whereas Andy would already be out the door at the opportunity, but then she nods. “Okay.” 

Dmitry gets up, extending his hand down to help his daughter up. She goes to the sink and runs cold water, splashing it on her face before pulling the hood of her sweatshirt up. 

“A little better?” He asks, and she shrugs. Dmitry reaches into his pocket, pulling out the keys to his car and handing them to her. “Why don’t you go wait for me in the car while I check you out?”

She nods, and he pulls her into a hug before she slips out of the room and down the hall. 

It doesn’t take long to check her out, and the administrator expresses concern over how unlike Cassie it is. He nods and signs the appropriate papers before going out in the parking lot. 

She’s got the car started and the radio on when he slips into the driver's seat, she’s slouched down in the passenger seat, fiddling with her phone. 

Dmitry turns the radio down, as he pulls out of the parking spot, giving Cassie a few extra moments to collect herself. 

“I googled the Romanovs,” she speaks up after a few moments of silence. 

Oh, fuck. 

“Do you want some ice cream?” he asks her. 

She’s quiet for a moment, and then pulls down her hood. “Yes, please.” 

-

Once Cassie has chocolate soft serve in a sugar cone and rainbow sprinkles and is nestled back in the car, he pulls back on the road, taking a sip of the milkshake he ordered, and heading down the backroads. 

“What made you look up your mother’s family?” Dmitry asks her. 

Cassie licks a row of rainbow sprinkles, and shrugs. “They were talking about important families that immigrated to America and they mentioned them in passing. It was weird to hear the name outside of you guys and Lily, so it seemed like a good idea at the time to look them up.” 

He wonders if they should’ve talked to her about them before. It never seems like a good time to bring up the brutal slaughter of one’s relatives to your child though. And he hates the steps back Anya takes-even if they’re temporary, when the topic is brought up. 

They did some version of this conversation a few years ago with Andy, and Anya had nightmares for a week straight afterwards. 

“Daddy,” she says, turning in her seat. “When Mommy said that grandma and grandpa had passed, I thought she meant in a car accident or something.” 

She’s regressed slightly, as well. She hardly ever calls them Mommy or Daddy anymore. 

Dmitry gives a small nod, “What happened to your mother’s family is unthinkable.” 

“Why-“ she starts and then stops when she gets choked up, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “Why did Mommy survive?” 

“She wasn’t home when it happened, baby,” Dmitry explains. “She went out with some friends, it was just the universe at hand.”

He can’t call it luck- it’s good luck she’s alive, and bad luck as well. Anya struggled so hard whenever someone would tell her she was lucky to be alive after, locking herself in her room for days afterwards. 

“Was she with you?” Cassie asks him. 

“No,” and he wishes she had been. It wouldn’t have changed anything but he hates thinking of her returning to that house alone and seeing everything that had happened alone. “I had to study that night, she went out with her friend Katya.” 

Cassie frowns, trying to place the name, “I don’t remember a Katya.”

The Zborovskys lived in Canada, last he heard. The family had packed up and left right after the funeral. Viktor had been dating Maria at the time, wearing an expression of stunned disbelief the entire ceremony. Katya looking like she’s ready to fall apart at any moment. 

“What happened that night affected a lot of people,” Dmitry explains gently. “The Zborovskys were old family friends and didn’t want to stay in Alaska afterwards.” 

Cassie gnaws on her ice cream as she considers that. Then whispers, “Why did they kill them?” 

“Your grandfather did something back in Russia,”  
Dmitry explains, as best he can. He doesn’t want to paint her grandfather in a negative light. Or imply any of this was deserved, because it wasn’t. “And some people thought he should pay for it and that it was their responsibility to make sure he did.”

“They murdered her four siblings,” she says, her eyes wide with surprise. “Why murder them?”

Dmitry winces, as memories of all four of those siblings play through his head. There is no rational or logical answer for the senseless tragedy of her mother’s family. 

“Your Aunt Olga would adore you,” is what he says instead, clearing his throat of emotion. “She was so smart, honestly where you probably get most of your smarts from. She wanted to be a doctor, and would be so happy for your love of science.” 

Cassie smiles softly at that, “I thought I got that from you.” 

“Olga and I could be very similar,” he tells her. “But the whole school work comes easy thing? Purely your aunt.” 

His daughter takes a bite out of her cone, seemingly somewhat more calm as he talks about them as people. “How did you and Mommy meet?”

“You know this story,” he reminds her. 

“Just that you met as children,” she says. “Not, like, the details.” 

She’s fishing for an unfiltered version of the last, the one her aunts and uncle and grandparents have been slightly blurred out of. 

“She was playing a game of hide and seek in a store with her sisters,” he answers. “And out of nowhere, this eight year old girl grabs my hand and begs me to help her hide.” 

“And did you?” Cassie asks. 

“Would’ve done anything she asked,” he says by way of an answer. “Still would.” 

She smiles at that, unaware of every painful and earned moment of her parents' romance, but she was the product of the best of them and that’s exactly what they wanted her to know. 

“Were you close with all her siblings?” Cassie asks, tearing at the wrapper on her ice cream, breaking it down into little pieces. “Or just Olga?” 

Dmitry swallows. “Maria was my other best friend, after Anya- your mother. We were of the same age, the three of us would go on a tear together, when we were younger. Tatiana and Olga were like little mothers, always watching over the younger siblings. And Alexei… he was sick a lot, but that kid had so much spirit, he was always trying to tag along with Maria and Anya anywhere they went. We used to sneak him out when we could.” 

Alexei almost seemed too fragile for this world at times, so his early death felt especially cruel in Dmitry’s heart. They all hurt, but it hurts the most to think of Alexei. 

She’s quiet for a few more moments and he’s not certain if she’s run out of questions or if she’s heard the emotion in his voice and wants to give him a few more moments to collect himself. 

She finishes off her ice cream, and stares at the floor. 

“How is Mommy okay?” She asks, “If anything happened to you two or to Andy-“ 

“We work really hard at keeping all of us safe,” Dmitry reassures her, reaching over to squeeze her hand. “And what happened to your mother’s family is a one in a million tragedy. But your mother is strong, so strong, and she’s worked hard to be okay.” Cassie nods. “And sometimes she’s not, but you have to learn to be okay with that too.” 

“I want to hug her,” Cassie announces, “But I don’t want to upset her by bringing it up.” 

“I’m sure your mother will be willing to talk to you about it,” he says carefully. They’ve had this discussion before. “Maybe not exactly when we get home but if you tell her you want to talk about it, we will make time to do so.” 

“I just…” she takes a deep breath. “I just wasn’t expecting it is all.” 

No one expects such information when they go on a web search for their family members. And that’s their failure as parents. 

“Let’s go pick up dinner,” Dmitry tells her, “And then you can spend some quality time with your Mom.” Cassie nods. “Pick out the restaurant and call in the order, you know what we all like.” 

She goes through her phone, focused on the task, calling in some food for the four of them. Dmitry texts Anya that they’re picking up dinner on their way home, and she texts back asking if everything’s okay since he had texted Andy earlier letting him know he didn’t have to pick his sister up from school. 

He doesn’t want to do this through text, so he glances out at where Cassie’s waiting in the car, and presses the button call Anya. 

“What’s wrong?” Is how she answers. 

“Cassie’s fine”, he responds. “She did a little web search earlier on her family history though.” 

“Oh,” the word comes out softly from Anya. 

“She might hug you when she gets home,” he warns her. “And she might have some more questions, and I told her she might not get them tonight but I wanted to let you know before we got home.” 

“Why did she—?”

“Your family name came up randomly,” Dmitry explains. “We went for a drive and ate some ice cream and we talked about it a little.”

“Thank you,” she says and he can picture her tugging on a strand of hair, worrying her lower lip. “Andy should be home from soccer practice soon.” 

“Cass and I will be home soon too,” he promises. “I love you.” 

“Love you too,” she returns. “And I’m okay, I promise.” 

“Never doubt that you are,” he returns before saying his goodbyes and hanging up. 

Then he goes over to pick up the food, before going back out to the car with his daughter. 

“Did you talk to Mommy?” Cassie asks and he smiles at how well she knows both of them. 

“Yes,” Dmitry answers. “She’s waiting for that hug when you get home.”

She picks at the take out bag as they make the drive home. “I think I’ll help her check the locks tonight.”


	28. December 2020

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a fun outsider prospective piece from dmitrys students

Muriel Grant frowns at the email she receives late into the evening on Sunday, and immediately goes to the group text chain for her structural analysis class. 

There’s a message already unread in it. 

Harper Diaz: ...uh has dr s ever canceled a class before?  
Colin Newton: no???  
Kay Stryker: shit thanxgiving must’ve been ROUGH  
Muriel Grant: has anyone heard anything?  
Len Grabowski: does this just mean we have no new work to do this week?

At least she isn’t the only one confused, as more people chime in. One says they emailed him but haven’t received a response yet. (Even though he just sent the other email out!) 

The rest of the week passes with weird radio silence with no responses to emails, and his other class received the same treatment. 

She’s half expecting another cancellation on Sunday night but she logs onto the virtual classroom with no issues. 

“Hey guys,” Dr Sudayev greets them, not at all looking like a man who was recently at death’s door, so there went that theory probably. “Thanks for your patience in my absence last week.” 

“Are you okay?” Colin asks, squinting in the tiny video image of him. “We thought you might’ve caught the ‘rona.” 

“Nope, no Corona,” he promises. “My wife went into labor last Sunday so I took the week off for that.” 

There’s a dozen or so mirror freezed images on the screen as they all take that in. 

Kay is the first one to recover her voice, “Dr Sudayev….did you just say your wife had a baby?” 

Muriel searches her memory for if this was knowledge they should be aware of but she can’t remember this ever coming up. Actually she can’t remember even seeing Mrs Sudayev at all this semester. Just Marmie and Andy. 

Len speaks in a near stage whisper, “...did you know she was pregnant?” 

Their professor seems startled by the question, as if he doesn’t realize in the past year of classes he never mentioned the fact he was expecting a baby. “Very much so?” There’s a noise behind him, and he tilts his head to listen. “I know we are a week behind but it felt wrong to just drop a bunch of assignments last minute on you.” 

“What did you have?” Kay is still very much on the unexpected baby thing. As they all are. 

A side effect of this pandemic seems to have been becoming too interested in your professors and classmates' lives once you were given a peak into their home. 

Especially when they leave New York City to disappear into the wilds of Alaska and then pop up with a baby suddenly. 

“He had a quarantine baby is what he had,” Harper snickers. 

Their professor ignores that particular comment and must decide Kay’s question is the lesser of two evils to address. “We had a girl.” There’s another sharp noise coming from behind him. “Sorry, hold on.” 

Muriel’s phone buzzes and she sees a message from Harper “Can believe he’d have a quarantine baby...good for mrs s” and she giggles. 

Dr Sudayev comes back with the tiniest baby she’s ever seen (to be fair she has not been exposed to that many babies) swaddled in light green and with a head covered in blonde fuzz. “Sorry, she was sleeping but it looks like she needed attention.” 

There is some sort of smug satisfaction coming from that baby over her victory of being nestled in her father’s arm now. 

“Okay, so where we left off…” 

“Wait,” Muriel interrupts, and he at least is starting to look resigned that they are definitely not approaching anything near structural analysis today and are most definitely only focusing on the baby news. “What did you guys name her?” 

“Cassiopeia,” he says, and tilts the angle of his arm so they have a better view of the squishy, new baby. “Well, Cassie for short.” 

“She’s beautiful,” Kay offers. 

There’s another sound behind him, and she doesn’t come into view but the voice of Mrs Sudayev is recognizable. 

“You were supposed to wake me up when it was time for your class,” she is speaking softly but still the mic picks it up. 

“She’s fine,” but he turns his body and a pair of hands come down to pick up the infant. 

There’s a chorus of, “Congratulations, Mrs Sudayev!” And one, “Mazel tov!” From the collection of images on the computer. 

“Thank you!” Comes the reply, still off screen. 

“Okay,” Dr Sudayev is focusing back on the class. “No more distractions, let’s talk about where we left off in the assignment.”


	29. December 2020

Cassie Sudayev has very tiny hands and even tinier fingers and they are certain and strong whenever she reaches up and grasps his hair, pulling at the ends violently. To add insult to injury, she gives a gummy smile after she does it, as though proud of the injury she’s given to him. 

Anya tells Dmitry he’s being a bit dramatic, but he notices she keeps her hair in a rather tight bun these days. 

“You’re a demon,” Dmitry tells his daughter fondly as he walks her back and forth the attic floor. “My favorite demon, but a demon nonetheless.” 

“You know what most guys would do in this instance?” Anya asks him, appearing in the doorway. “Get a haircut.”

Dmitry got a haircut about four or so months prior, but it was difficult to do errands between the global pandemic and getting prepared for a baby and working and educating and entertaining a six year old. 

Now that Cassie was here, time slipped away even more. 

“She could also learn to not pull hair,” he points out. 

“She’s an infant, Dima,” Anya points out, crossing the room. She gets on her tiptoes, kissing his cheek and pulling lightly on his hair. “And It’s something I never grew out of.” 

“That’s different,” Dmitry tells her. Cassie’s baby blue eyes keep looking between whatever parent is different. “Where’s Andy?”

“On an adventure with Lily,” she responds. 

Andy’s spent more and more time with Lily lately as they all try to get used to and adjust to having a newborn in the house. 

“He’s online shopping?” Dmitry teases. 

“Cute,” Anya responds. “She created a scavenger hunt out back for him.” 

He has trouble picturing that but quarantining has brought out weirder things in them all. 

“In the snow?” Dmitry asks, and Anya shrugs, and reaches over to steal their daughter from him. 

“It’s time to feed her,” Anya tells him before he can pout. She puts her free hand on his chest and pushes gently. “Go find our son.” 

“Yes,” Dmitry says, bending down to give her a kiss and kiss the top of Cassie’s head. “Come watch a movie with us after.”

Dmitry gets downstairs to find Andy coming inside, shaking the snow off of him and shedding his jacket and snow pants. 

“Make sure you pick that up,” Dmitry instructs him and Andy pauses in the middle of running off to come back and picks them, and hands them to Dmitry to put them on the hook. 

“Is Lily still alive?” 

Andy laughs at that, “She went to put on more clothes!”

Dmitry reaches down, lifting Andy up. “Let’s go find her, I need a favor from her.”

“And me?” Andy asks, his hands cold on Dmitry’s shoulder. 

“Don’t need anything from you but your company,” Dmitry responds, knocking on the door to the suite of rooms that Lily resides in. 

It’s different from the room her and Vlad had shared. 

Once he gets the okay, he pushes the door open and finds Lily applying moisturizer to her hands. 

“It’s my two favorite guys,” she greets him. “Where are the girls?”

“Eating,” Dmitry responds, pulling out the chair at the vanity and sitting down with Andy on his lap. “Or at least Cassie is.” 

Lily’s reaching over to fuss with his hair. She started cutting it back when he first came to live with her and Vlad and did it all the way until he had moved out. 

“Are you here to let me clean up that monstrosity of a mop you have?” She asks, but her tone is fond. 

“It’s either you or letting Cassie rip every strand from my hair,” he concedes. 

“Are you getting your haircut, Dad?” Andy asks. He’s only started calling him that a few weeks ago and it creates a lump in his throat everytime it happens. 

“Sure am,” Dmitry responds as Lily opens a drawer to pull out the scissors and water bottle. She’s been doing Andy’s hair since they came up there. 

Andy twists to look back at his pseudo-grandmother. “Can I have mine cut too?”

His isn’t overly long but has grown out a bit from his last cut. 

Lily looks emotional at the request. “It would be my honor, Andrew.” 

Andy gives her a weird look at the emotion in her voice and shrugs, relaxing back against Dmitry as Lily works her way through his hair. 

Dmitry holds Andy on his lap when Lily moves on to do his hair, blond locks falling around them. 

“I can’t believe I get to do this for two generations of Sudayev men,” Lily sighs, ruffling Andy’s hair when she’s finished. 

“I’m a boy,” Andy points out and Lily laughs, picking him up off Dmitry’s lap so he can brush off the hair that’s covering him now. Both his and Andy’s. 

“So you are,” Lily agrees easily. “You both look very handsome but it’s time for soap operas and wine.” 

Dmitry kisses her cheek, “We’ll be downstairs watching a movie if you need us.” 

Andy takes his hand to lead him to the den where the television is. 

They’ve just settled down and put on Onward when Anya walks down with Cassie against her shoulder. 

She gasps when she sees them. “You did it! And so did Andy.” 

“It was a two for one father son haircut special,” Dmitry says as she leans down to kiss him before she takes a seat next to their son. 

“You both look great,” Anya decides, turning Cassie around on her lap. 

Cassie’s eyes settle on him, her brow wrinkling in confusion before her mouth opens wide and she starts screaming, causing her brother to hold his hands to his ears. 

Not even a month old and he’s already given his daughter the biggest betrayal of her life. Anya tries to soothe her before passing her off to Dmitry, who presses her against his shoulder so she doesn’t have to look at his haircut. 

She settles down somewhat, her little body turning into hiccuping cries. 

“I’m never cutting my hair again,” he mouths to Anya, who just averts his gaze and pulls Andy in her arms to focus on the movie.


	30. February 2020

“Anya?” There’s a small voice at the doorway of the kitchen where Anya’s trying to finish up her work for the day. 

She looks over and finds Andy, with his palms up and arms stretched out and covered in sparkly red glitter. Anya shuts her laptop and jumps up. 

“What happened?” 

She’s not quite sure where to bring him, but directs him towards the bathroom because it feels like if she tries this in the kitchen sink all their dishes are going to end up covered in glitter for the next five years. 

“I have to make Valentine’s for school,” he explains, “They sent us home with some supplies.” 

She does not envy the teacher that will have to deal with other parents if they end up with the same fate. Fortunately, Valentine’s Day was on a Friday and then there’s a week off from school following. 

Her, Andy and Dmitry are going to Alaska on Saturday to spend the week with Lily and visiting old friends and their children. 

“I’m guessing glitter isn’t your preferred medium,” Anya teases, opening up the cabinet and finding a bottle of nail polish remover and some cotton discs. 

“Definitely no,” he grumbles. “I shut my door so Marmie can’t get in.” 

“That is very smart and considerate of you,” Anya tells him, as she gets to work trying to remove the glitter and glue off of him. “I think she’s asleep on your dad’s pillow anyway.” 

Andy just nods as he watches her try to remove the glitter. “Are you mad?”

At first she thinks he means that Marmalade is asleep- which the answer is no, because she’s rather needy when she realizes you’re not available for pets, but then realizes what he actually means. 

“About the glitter?” Anya pauses to rinse her hands of the nail polish remover and to take a towel to pat his wrist and hands dry. “Not at all. Messes are easy to clean up.” 

He leans forward slightly to whisper, “It’s on my bed too.” 

Anya moves aside to direct him to wash his hands. “We will probably have to throw that out.” 

“Will Dmitry be mad?” Andy asks him as he takes off his shirt and hands it to her. 

She goes over to the shower to shake the glitter free from his shirt. 

“No,” she answers, pulling the shirt back over his head. “You should see some of the messes he made when he was younger.” 

Andy still looks a little uncertain and she reaches over to pull him into a hug, kissing the top of his head. 

“When does he get home?” 

“Any moment now,” Anya tells him. Dmitry teaches classes at the college a few blocks away from their apartment. “Did you finish your Valentine’s for class?” 

Andy nods, “I had to make one for every student and the teacher.” 

Anya remembers doing the same when she was younger, but her class size was much smaller back in Fox River. She was rather enthusiastic about making Valentine’s Day cards back when she was younger. Would make them for all her siblings, Katya and Viktor, Dmitry, Vlad and Lily. Dmitry’s father, too, back when he was still alive. 

“I’m sure they came out great, even if the glitter got away from you,” Anya tells him, fishing her phone out of her pocket to text Dmitry that they were headed over to the Target over at Dekalb. 

“Wait,” Andy holds his hand up and runs back to his room, making sure to keep his door shut against Marmie. 

He re-emerges a few moments later and holds out an envelope to her. 

“This is for you,” he says, but doesn’t look at her when he hands it to her. 

Anya slides the card out of the envelope, a few stray pieces of glitter escaping. Her heart catches in her throat, reading his handwriting and design of the card. 

“Andy, this is beautiful,” she tells him and he looks embarrassed by it. She sets the card carefully down on the counter and pulls him into another hug. 

He huffs a sigh but hugs her back. His face scrunches up as she kisses his cheek. 

“I made one for Dmitry and Marmie too,” he mumbles and she smiles. 

“They will love it as well,” Anya assures him. “Get your jacket, we are going to go meet your dad at Target and then grab something to eat.”

Andy hesitates for a moment but then goes to the closet in the living room to pull out his winter jacket. Anya picks up the card and pulls out a box in her room to keep it in. 

She picks up Marmie to hug her and kiss her, to allow herself a moment to collect herself because she doesn’t want to give Andy the wrong impression by crying. 

Marmie has a similar reaction as her human brother which is to huff as she hugs her. She does press her nose against Anya’s hand as she sets her back down on Dmitry’s pillow. 

It just may be the best Valentine she’s ever received.


End file.
